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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122782">Avery Emerson Clay</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastPresentFiction/pseuds/PastPresentFiction'>PastPresentFiction</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Losers (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Siblings, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:47:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastPresentFiction/pseuds/PastPresentFiction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Clay is known as the leader of the Losers. Aside from his role within the team and his atrocious taste in women, not much is known about his life BEFORE.  </p><p>After losing Max, but neutralizing the weapon, the Losers need to regroup.  Pooch is a new dad.  Jensen's niece's soccer team's season is over.  And now they have to plan for their next act.  Where better than the Clay Family Compound? </p><p>It might have been nice if Clay had told the team that the Clay family had a compound, or money, or-  Well, it would have been nice to have a head's up to what they were walking into.  When Avery Emerson Clay opens the door, only Clay isn't shocked, and to be honest, Avery and Clay are probably going to have a shit ton of fun with that-</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jake Jensen &amp; Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Did You Know The Bark of A Chihuahua Can Bring The Dead Back to Life?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I own nothing of The Losers...DC does and quite frankly I think they OWE us MORE.</p><p>Anyway, here's the next warning.  I usually write hot sexy fun times for one Franklin Clay (Looking at JDMsNegan right now), but anyone who KNOWS me knows that I have a soft spot for Chris Evans and Jensen.  That boy needs more loving and I'm setting out right now to give it to him in the front and center of a story.</p><p>This story came to me after I read a fan theory (don't ask me where it came from, I read shit and forget the source two seconds later) that said they felt that the MOVIE Clay was the SON of the COMIC Clay and my brain started churning with thoughts of a sister for Clay to bust his gorgeous chops.  And here she is. I hope you like Avery Emerson, cause I sure do.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“MooMoo, you have to move, baby.”  I was nudging the fluff ball of a cat out of the way as the knocking on the front door became slightly more insistent.  MooMoo was a recent rescue and she was still getting comfortable with her surroundings, which meant she was attached to me like glue.  </p><p>I was glad Dad was with Mom on another trip to God only knew where, because that meant I didn’t have to listen to his bitching about my soft heart and the fact that the local shelters had my sorry, yet wealthy ass on speed dial for every sad story and animal that came through their doors.  </p><p>I managed, after giving in and picking the matted Persian cat up and soothing her as I weaved my way to the front door, passing Lolly a senior Cocker Spaniel that’s both deaf and blind so I bent down and gave her a little scratch and loving, dropping a kiss on Garfield the fat orange tabby who reigned over the roost from a spot on the cat tree just outside the family room, and trying to convince Ali and Sweetie that no one was invading so their loud chihuahua barks wouldn’t wake the dead in a nearby cemetery.  </p><p>My other rescues were napping around the family compound as I called our sprawling acreage, and I sighed as I finally arrived at the front door, thinking I’d fucking scream if it was a door to door salesman who got past the gate by some miracle.  The knocking was still going on and I finally snapped. </p><p>“Would you keep your fucking shirt you, you rancid fucking-” I opened the door and stopped speaking.  Sighing loudly, I tossed the comment over my shoulder at Ali and Sweetie.  “Thanks a lot, you really did wake up the fucking dead.”  I shook my head and stared up into eyes that looked so much like Dad’s that I wanted to cry.  “Daddy said you weren’t dead, fucking loser.”  </p><p>“Yeah, about that-” Clay, my older brother, my dad’s namesake stood in the sunlight on our front step and managed to almost look abashed.  “Ave, could you-” he gestured for me to move so he could- scratch that, I noticed he had a group with him, his team I gathered and I felt another sigh building.  “Come on, baby sis, let us in.”</p><p>Shaking my head in a freaking mimicry of one of my dogs after bath time I stood back to let the troops in.  As they crossed the threshold, looking around the family digs in clear cut curiosity, I felt the urge to issue at least a few starting rules.  “Careful of my pets, don’t let them go out the front door since they can get past the front gates and I’m afraid they’ll get hit by a car, and don’t get blood on the furniture.”  </p><p>Clay had three men and a woman with him, and the way the woman was looking at him nearly made me roll my eyes right out of my head.  Women and my brother were like gasoline and a match. Wait, I took stock of his companions again and I stopped him as he was heading for the kitchen, probably planning on making a huge fucking mess for Rose, our housekeeper and cook.  </p><p>“Hey, where’s Roque?”  Clay’s second in command had been with him for what felt like forever, but was probably only since I’d graduated high school or college, who keeps track?  Silence descended and it was heavy and awkward as fuck.  “Clay?”  </p><p>It was his turn to sigh, but before he could answer, the woman asked me how Dad knew Clay wasn’t dead.  My eyes flicked to her and I realized that I barely took in what she looked like when I took inventory of his group.  Not that it mattered, since knowing Clay, she wouldn’t last, no one else had.  I raised an eyebrow because her tone was a tad disrespectful, it wasn’t asked like she wondered why my dad would have that much faith in his son, it was how would a rich guy with nothing but money and time on his hands know shit about shit.  </p><p>“Given that Dad is the OG Clay, I guess he just fucking knew.”  I was looking her full in the eyes and felt gratified when she broke first.  “And the fact that he owns Guardian Incorporated may help, too.” Suck on that, bitch.  </p><p>“GI?”  It came from a huge guy wearing glasses with a hint of a goatee.  If he wasn’t also wearing the most garish t-shirt that had ever assaulted my eyes, I might have thought he was hot.  Who was I kidding?  Even with the ugly as fuck shirt he was pretty tasty.  “Your family owns GI?”  He wasn’t asking me, so I could stare without fear.  </p><p>Clay shrugged as he was digging through the fridge.  “What’s today?”  I could hear the noise and I knew exactly why he was asking, because EVERY single time he showed up he asked the same question.  “Ave, what day is it?”  </p><p>“Thursday,” I moved to the fridge and hip checked his ass out of the way.  “You’ll never find them, you fucking waste.”  I pushed his hand out of the way and opened a drawer he was ignoring.  “You never look in the fucking drawer.  Why wouldn’t you look in the drawer?”  I pulled out the container holding his favorite dish that Rose made every Wednesday night.  Beef braciole and then I pulled a container of pasta from another shelf.  “The bread is in the cabinet over the stove, that way it’s easier to heat up.”  I shook my head as he grinned down at me.  “You’re such a fucking idiot.”  </p><p>“Love you too, Avery.”  He kissed my forehead as he took the treasure from my hands and moved to the stove to start reheating it for his team.  </p><p>Watching him, my big brother in the flesh, wearing the same white button down and black pants and jacket that he always wore when he wasn’t in the field, I had to admit that I felt pretty fucking content knowing that my dad had called it.  He was alive.  And he was home.  Even if he had a few add-ons that I wasn’t completely sure about, and one-I caught the well built, glass wearing goateed one shooting me side eye, that I might want to get to know a little better.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. If Your Brother Returns From The Dead, Is There Some Protocol That You HAVE To Follow?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once Clay had recreated Rose’s delicate and delicious meal from the day before, he and the others crowded around the kitchen island and I rolled my eyes again.  “I grasp that you guys are used to throwing down wherever because you’re all Rambo, but you’re actually in a real house with real tables and chairs.”  Clay’s grin forced a smile from me as I tossed a dish towel at him.  “And Rose is NOT cleaning up after you splattered the entire stove with the sauce, asshole.”  </p><p>“God I missed you,” he tugged me closer and breathed in my hair, making my heart clench.  It wasn’t like we spent tons of time together, Clay was always on a mission it seemed, but we kept in touch.  Well we did until the copter went down with twenty-five kids and all they found were dog tags with his name on them.  “I’d say you’ve grown, but-”</p><p>“Fuck you,” I smacked him in the side and pulled away.  Clay was built like Dad, broad shouldered, muscled and ready to take down a brick building with his will and firepower.  I was built like Mom, petite and dainty, but this mouth, as my dad often reminded me with a huge ass grin.  “You planning on staying here or just stocking up and rushing away again?”  </p><p>He pulled both his arms free and went back to eating.  “Staying,” I nodded.  Our land went on for miles, but even if it didn’t, Dad had it set up so it could be monitored from all sides.  Shoot me because I didn’t really pay much attention to that shit, who would try to kidnap me?  With my dad being who he is and my brother, alive or dead being who he is/was, that would be the stupidest fucking move any human being could think to make.</p><p> </p><p>After they ate, and cleaned up, Clay and Aisha (he introduced her and with the look he gave me, I knew I had to at least pretend I was filing all her likes and dislikes away for Christmas time) went off to his side of the house while I was left to show the three men to their own rooms.  </p><p>One was silent, but watchful, cowboy hat low on his head and I knew that look from the men my dad employed.  He was a sniper, I’d lay odds.   I put him in the tower, our house was as sprawling as our land, and he looked up the spiral stairway with a smirk.  </p><p>“I think you’ll appreciate the view,” I offered, telling him that there was a bath and the linen was fresh.  Rose was insane about making sure rooms were aired on rotation, just in case.  With a finger touching the rim of his hat, he started up the stairs as quiet as air.  “Now, let me see where the two of you should go-” I turned to the two men left with me.  </p><p>Pooch, the black gregarious man who was grateful, but also seemed ready to crawl out of his skin kept checking his watch.  “Sorry, it’s just-”</p><p>“Do you have an appointment you need to make?”  I asked, walking down the hallway, thinking that he might be happier in the pool house, with its complete setup of kitchen, living area, and bedroom.  </p><p>“Pooch is a new dad,” the hottie, Jensen, my brother, had called him answered.  I nodded, thinking I was correct in my assessment.  “He does video check-ins.”</p><p>“The pool house,” I opened the patio doors that we were closest to, and flipped on the light switch to light the pathway.  “It’s got wifi, with the password on the wall, a PC set up with all the bells and whistles, and it’s fully equipped for long term stays.”  In case his family wanted to join him, I was thinking, but didn’t want to overstep.  He looked like he might want to hug or kiss me, but refrained, instead thanking me profusely and rushing off.  I called out to him where he could find the keys to the door and chuckled as he waved his understanding.  </p><p>“Guess that just leaves me,” I turned and realized I was alone with the final member of Clay’s team.  “I can sleep anywhere, so don’t make a fuss.” He looked like he was blushing, and awkward, and maybe wanted the floor to eat him.  Then Lolly lumbered down the hallway and bumped into his knee.  “Whoa there.”  He looked down with a smile.  “Look at you, aren’t you a big fluffy ball.”  He knelt down and started rubbing her head, chuckling as she snuffled her appreciation.  “Oh, I see, you can’t see me or hear me, can you?”  More snuffling was his answer, but he kept talking to her, whether she heard him or not. “Aren’t you just a sweet ball of fluff?  Just sweetness.”  </p><p>“Her name is Lolly,” I offered, smiling down at him when he looked up.  She was pressing her nose into his hand, enjoying his attention.  “She’s fifteen years old, her owners left her at the pound because they had a baby and she was too much work as she started having health troubles.”  I sat down beside him and Lolly seemed to sense me and moved over to plop her head into my lap.  “She’s my oldest right now, my other seniors have crossed the rainbow bridge.”  </p><p>“How many rescues do you have?”  His hands were still running along Lolly’s back, and if a dog could purr, she would be.  I told him, names not numbers, and he was smiling as I explained each one’s story.  “You love them all, don’t you?”</p><p>“Course I do,” Lolly had nodded off, her head one of the soft rugs that I had scattered around the house just for this very purpose.  I stood up and so did Jensen.  “Who wouldn’t love them?”</p><p>I walked down the hallway that led to my side of the house.  Knowing Clay, and boy did I know my brother, no one wanted to be on his side of the house while he was entertaining a ‘friend’.  With Cougar in the tower, Pooch in the pool house, and Jensen seeming like a more social beast, I thought he’d appreciate being near another human being.  So my side of the house was the best idea.  </p><p>Opening a door at the other end of the hallway, I smiled when I saw Cullen the tuxedo cat perched on one of the pillows and Otis the dog she adopted on the rug beside the bed.  “You can tell them to get out and they will.”  They’d bitch, moan, and whine, but they’d leave the room and come to mine.  He shook his head and walked into the room carrying his bags.  </p><p>“Nah, the company will be nice.”  Reaching out one hand, he waited while Cullen smelled his fingers and nudged them with her forehead.  Since he was given the OK he scratched her ears and got a purr in reward.  Otis, perked up and Jensen chuckled.  “Jealous?”  The dog’s head tilted as he considered the question and he got another laugh.  “Come here and you can have some scratches too.”  </p><p>“Since you seem to have things under control,” I was leaning against the door frame while I watched him charm my pets one by one.  “Your bathroom is through that door,” I gestured when he looked over at me.  “And I’m at the other end of the hall.”  I turned to go, thinking I should go out back and make sure no one was left outside who couldn’t find the pet door on their own,  when his voice stopped me. </p><p>“Thanks, Avery,” I smiled and turned back to assure him it was nothing.  Not my house, not really.  “You’re taking this in stride, and that’s pretty amazing.”</p><p>That made me laugh, real laughter.  “Oh, Jensen, you haven’t met this family.  This isn’t all that weird, not for the Clays.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. If An Apple Falls From A Tree In The Family Forest...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Clay family.  What could be said about our family?  </p><p>First of all let’s talk about our patriarch.  Franklin Clay Sr.  The OG Clay.  Clay 1.0. Daddy, if your name is Avery Emerson.  Frank if your name is Amelia Von Houton Clay.  </p><p>My mom met Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Clay Sr when she was taken hostage during a really shitty Spring Break.  As the heiress of the Von Houton fortune, think part oil/part silicon valley, Mom was very important and so they sent in Dad’s team.  CIA/Black Ops, any of this sounding vaguely familiar?  Yeah, because some apples do not fall far from the tree.  Hell there are times I think the apple is still dangling from the tree. </p><p>I never laughed so hard in my life than when I watched Speed, the first flick with Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock, and Sandra’s character said that relationships that start in their fucked up way are destined for the chopping block.  Why?  Look at my parents.  Seriously look at them. They still act like my dad just busted down the door of the shithole the kidnappers were keeping Mom in and she just saw her future in the fucking flesh. It’s gross. Seriously, disgusting because I know they are still going at it like rabbits with a steady supply of X.  Ew.  </p><p>Needless to say, Franklin Clay Jr came along pretty soon after the wedding.  And I mean VERY soon.  So soon it's really awesome that Mom’s parents were rich as sin, because it kept the wagging tongues fearful of retaliation.  Who’s calling my mom a whore or calling their wedding a shotgun wedding when Grandpa could buy and sell their entire livelihoods?  No one that’s who.  </p><p>They were a happy and content threesome.  Dad kept up his service, even if it made Mom hot as fuck and scared shitless in a rotation of pain and sex that would make most people’s heads spin.  There were no plans to add to the family line.  Dad had his heir in little Clay.  Mom had her figure back.  Everyone was happy as a lark.</p><p>Then came the anniversary trip to where they met.  The country, not the shithole.  One bottle of wine too many.  A vast misunderstanding of the symptoms of perimenopause.  Nine months later, give or take, you have Avery Emerson Clay.  A fourth to their trio.  </p><p>I never felt like a mistake.  Our family was a family of jokesters and love.  We give one another a hard time, sure, but we adore each other and will fucking hurt anyone who tries to hurt one of us.  </p><p>By the time I came along, though, Dad was retired from active duty.  He, with Mom’s help, started Guardian Incorporated.  He gave guys like himself a place to find work after they were put out to pasture, as he called it.  Snipers, sharpshooters, hackers, leaders, followers, soldiers.  He found a place for them all.  He tried to find a place for me after college, since Clay had gone directly into his footsteps, and he truly didn’t understand my liberal arts degree.  </p><p>My time in the workforce that Dad started ended the day that one of his soldiers muttered the word “nepotism” in my direction for the tenth time.  He found out that while I can pretend I don’t know how tasers work, I do in fact know how they function.  I wonder if his testicles are still in functional order?  </p><p>I still work for Guardian Incorporated.  I work from home, writing and rewriting press releases.  I work through reports and go over people’s work so we don’t end up with lawsuits because someone dropped a period or added a comma to the wrong place.  And while I do my familial business duty, I rescue animals and I write poetry.  I contemplate writing a novel. Anything that gives me an outlet, something of my own.  Kind of wonder if I’m an apple from the same tree at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. If You're Going to Tie Someone Up, At Least Use The Proper Knot For It...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wish I could say that I went out and got everyone in from the wonders of a dark backyard to have their evening meal, followed by loving pats, and then snuggles and a quiet slipping off to slumberland, but that shit doesn’t happen on a normal night in Casa de Clay.  </p><p>Instead, I corralled as many of my furry pals inside as I could, calling quits when I realized that some cats are happier making their own choices about when they come in the house, and a few of my puppies were the same, having been raised by those headstrong kitties.  Yes, I did do this every single night, and no, I’m not willing to take suggestions, but thank you for opening your mouth to try to offer some.</p><p>Once I was back inside, tucked away in my own suite at the far end of the house, at least in terms of my big brother and his latest mistake, I got ready for bed.  Makeup off, hair brushed and braided so I didn’t end up with a mouthful of it during the night, and in deference to the guests I’d had thrust upon my person, a set of real pajamas instead of a tank and boyshort panties I’d normally wear when the parents were out of the country doing ungodly things on foreign soil.  I’d just turned off the overhead light, settled in my huge cloud-like bed with a book and my bedside lamp on when my cell rang.  </p><p>“Hey, Daddy,” I answered, trying like fuck to remember where he and Mom were shacked up this time and what the time difference was.  “You know you don’t have to check in-”</p><p>“I do when you have unexpected deliveries.”  Great, fuck.  Just because I don’t turn on the heavy handed security shit didn’t mean my overprotective father wouldn’t do it remotely.  “I wanted to let you know that I knew the package would show up eventually.”  Clay, he was saying he told me so, that big brother was alive, ha ha.  “Your mother and I have a few more-” I heard Mom’s giggles from behind him and him chuckling and shushing her and sighed heavily at their newlywed antics at this late stage in their fucking lives.  No wonder Clay was a hornball.  “We have some things to tie up, but we’ll be home soon to figure out what to do with the package.”  Ew, tie up Mom?  That was a fucking image in my fucking brain bank that I couldn’t un-think.  Or was it Mom tying up Dad?  Shit fuck shit.  Stop it, Avery.  </p><p>“Great, I’ll just toss the package in the corner and ignore it until you guys get home.”  He chuckled again and I knew he understood that I was unfazed by Clay’s reappearance.  “Give Mom my love, and remember a Pruisk head knot can get too tight if it’s under too much pressure, I’d hate for one of you to lose a limb.” Fuck it, if they were into kinky weird shit, better safe than sorry.  “Love you, Daddy.  Night.” </p><p>“Love you too, Princess.”  He choked out, and I knew that I’d won checkmate in the TMI Olympics.  Good, now maybe they’d keep their weird shit out of polite conversation.  “Sweet dreams, goodbye.”</p><p> </p><p>Morning came far too soon, for the group that showed up from out of the damn blue.  I was awake early, since my rescues liked to get me up and going before the sun crested over the horizon.  I was fucking beyond thankful when I remembered Rose came every other day, and she was due.  It would really fucking suck for a woman who helped raise me to die of a stroke or heart attack because she wasn’t warned that Clay had risen from the dead.  </p><p>I was in the kitchen, with a glass of juice and a bowl of Cinnamon Chex, reading over a stack of reports I needed to edit and release when she arrived.  Humming a jaunty tune as she always did, I took a deep breath and asked her to sit down with me at the kitchen table.  </p><p>“You look far too serious for this early in the morning, Ave.”  She was grinning, but I knew she was worried.  Rose McGinty was like family, she’d been working for us for so damn long.  “What is it?”</p><p>Another breath and I told her, in the only way I could.  “You know how Clay’s team ‘died’ in Bolivia?”  She nodded, looking at me like she wasn’t sure how much worse the news could be than the day we got that particular tidbit.  “Well, Dad kept saying that Clay wasn’t dead, right?”  She nodded again and I bit my lip.  “He was right.”  </p><p>And like every fucking member of our damn family, Clay picked that moment to round the corner and come into sight.  Rose squeaked, paled, but didn’t scream or pass out, a true sign she’d been around us for too fucking long.  “Surprise,” he offered and then he was kneeling in front of her and she was hugging him to her, the little boy she’d helped rear back to life and in the flesh.</p><p>“Damnit, Clay, couldn’t you have put some fucking clothes on?”  I rolled my eyes, taking in my brother’s boxers and open white button down combo.  “I mean, I get that most women think this shit is hot, but we’re family.”  I cringed and pushed my cereal bowl away.  Causing Rose to laugh and brush her tears away, thankful that I broke the emotionally charged moment and even more so when Rose announced that she’d be making a celebratory dinner.  But less so when she added that it would be full of Clay’s favorites.  “Great.”  </p><p> </p><p>I spent most of the day going through my normal routine.  Rose had her day to day, and I had mine.  When Daddy was home, he’d be at the office, Mom would be doing her thing with the charities she founded and chaired.  Me?  I’d be writing up reports, press releases, and playing fetch and laser tag with dogs and cats.  Look, we all have our purpose in life.  This was mine.</p><p>It was during a game of fetch, with Otis and Sweetie, because Ali would NOT play it wasn’t her style, that Clay came out to spend some quality time with his little sister.  More or less.</p><p>“Does Dad still have a cache of supplies in the barn?”  The barn, as we called it, was a huge warehouse like bunker that Daddy had put in on the far back end of the acreage.  Tucked all the way back, amongst the trees and foliage, it was camouflaged to the point that unless you knew it was there, you wouldn’t find it. Not even from the air.  I nodded, and sighed.  I’d forgotten the call.</p><p>“Yeah, about Dad.”  I threw the ball and laughed as Sweetie tripped over Otis to grab it.  She was tired so she ran off to the shade of the dog patio to hide the ball with Otis hot on her heels.  “He called last night, seems he’s been spying on me while he and Mom are off doing what he and Mom do.”  Clay chuckled and shook his head.  “He knows you’re here and he did the whole ‘told you so’ in code of course, and then maybe let slip that he and Mom are into bondage.”  </p><p>“Kinky,” Clay took it in stride, a true Clay family trait.  “They coming back soon?”  I nodded as I watched Sweetie denying Otis his wish for the ball.  “Great, Dad’s always so open with suggestions.”  I snorted, knowing that Daddy and Clay were far too alike at times for comfort.  </p><p>“Let me see if I can do him justice,” I turned to Clay and tilted my head, thinking about how Dad would start.  “Son, first you got burned, which was bad enough.”  Clay’s lips were quirking as I deepened my voice to a growl.  “But then, it seems that you didn’t just get your whole team involved, but you didn’t notice you had a viper in your midst.”  He hadn’t told me about Roque, the silence did.  His teeth were worrying his lip, fighting the laughter as I went on, knowing I was hitting Dad’s stride.  “And on top of that, you went and got involved with another fool woman.”  That did it, he gave a guffaw and let go.  Laughing and then his long ass arms yanked out and pulled me to him, hands ruffling my hair.  </p><p> </p><p>“God I missed you, Ave.”  I rolled my eyes, feeling strangely content in being hugged by Clay since I couldn’t really pin down the last time I’d seen him in the flesh.  “This shit has really put shit in perspective.” </p><p>“Like how fucking awesome I am,” I tilted my head back to look up at my scruffy faced big brother.  His smile was blindingly white and his dimples deepened.  “Shouldn’t have taken fake dying to notice that, asshole.”</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Feed Trip and Conserving Water</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I was setting up my yoga mat beside the pool as the sun started its slow descent.  Clay, Cougar, and Aisha had gone off in one of Dad’s 4x4 golf carts in the general direction of the barn, so I assumed they were going to do a visual inventory of Dad’s toys.  I’d changed into a pair of loose fitting shorts and a tank, sighing as I stretched, feeling like the yoga routine was bullshit, but now that Dad’s stalking was confirmed I couldn’t very well say fuck it and forget it.</p><p>When the daughter of the owner of a firm like Guardian Incorporated “accidentally” tasers an employee in his very sensitive nether regions, deals have to be made. Concessions and negotiations are dealt, and I was forced to agree to a round of Anger Management coupled with meditation or yoga, with an added bonus of working from home forever.  The last bit was a fucking Godsend, the rest I could do without.  </p><p>The puppies and kitties were sprawled along the patio, in the shade of the covered porches, and a good portion of the population were inside because they loved AC as much as the next guy.  Yoga, then I’d grab my own 4x4 to go feed and play with my rescue goats, then back to the house for a shower before Rose could beat me into submission for a mini celebration for Clay’s “Happy You’re Not Dead” party.  </p><p>I could smell his favorites baking, broiling, and bubbling as Rose cooked and cleaned in tandem.  If I knew her, and I’d known her since Mom popped a squat and pushed me out, she was making enough for an entire infantry division.  Which would be fabulous if it wasn’t all red meat and potato fair.  </p><p>The only good thing about yoga, my body was already going through the motions through muscle memory alone, was that I truly didn’t have to THINK about it.  Since I’d learned the salutations from whatever weird fucking guru freak Mom called up and I shunted out the door after the trial run, my body just went along with it, while my brain could do useful shit, like make lists of what I needed to do before the parents came sauntering back from wherever the fuck they fucked off to this time.  </p><p>I was adding to my pet food order mentally, when a throat cleared and I nearly fell on my fucking head.  Ass over ears, I could see strong thighs in baggy pants, and a bright pink shirt as my eyes strained higher.  “Jensen,” I muttered a greeting, continuing through the poses, but forced to stop the internal lists now that I had company.  “Why aren’t you off doing counting fun times with my big brother?”  </p><p>He chuckled as he came closer, twisting his head to try to see mine at the correct angle.  “Wouldn’t have pegged you as the yoga type,” then he blushed and his hands found his pockets as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.  “Not that there’s anything wrong with yoga.  It’s a valid-”</p><p>I laughed, the poor guy was tying himself in knots over nothing.  “Yoga is the most boring shit I’ve ever had to endure.”  I moved through the final poses with all the grace that I cared to and was standing in front of him before he could speak.  “But endure it I must, so sayeth legal.”  </p><p>His eyebrows rose and I grinned.  “Big brother REALLY didn’t tell you anything at all about us, did he?”  He shook his head and I grabbed my towel from the back of one of the lounge chairs.  “Well, if you’re not busy, wanna come help me feed my trip?”  He looked confused which made my grin grow.  “Come on, you’ll have fun, I promise.”  </p><p> </p><p>We were laughing when we walked back into the house together, not all that long after feeding my trip of goats.  Only five, but they were more than a handful and Jake had a blast.  “When I saw Nuisance with those tennis balls on his head -” he was clutching the left side of his chest and I was giggling.  </p><p>The audience waiting just stared.  Clay and Pooch, Rose must have been getting the dining room ready and I guess Aisha and Cougar were off doing their own thing.  “Hey, how was the barn?”  I asked, hip checking Jake once we got over the threshold.  Clay’s eyes narrowed and I shook my head while rolling my eyes.  “I need a shower, feeding goats is messy work.”  </p><p>“Yeah, I should grab one, too.”  Jake’s eyes widened, then he turned to face my brother and he shook his head like he just said he wanted to eat a baby for dinner.  “I mean after she’s done, in my own shower, alone.”  </p><p>I bit my lip, fighting to NOT crack up, but this shit was hilarious.  “Well, technically we’re supposed to conserve water, Jake, SO sharing a shower would be BETTER for the environment-”</p><p>“AVE!”  Clay’s voice seemed to vibrate the walls and I thought for sure Dad could hear him without the Daddy cam shit up and running.  </p><p>I sighed dramatically and rolled my eyes again.  “Honestly, Clay, you act like I’m a virgin and have never been touched by man.  Get over yourself, big brother, that ship sailed a LONG time ago.  You missed the opportunity to give that lecture.” Turning away from Pooch looking like he might crack a rib from holding back laughing, Jake looking like he wanted the floor to eat him whole, and Clay looking like death might be a better option, I shot back another offer.  “The offer to conserve water stands, Jake.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Hot Water...</h2></a>
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    <p>I showered alone.  Huge shocker there, what with Clay throwing his big boy boss pheromones around like he owned the free world, and Jake acting like he’d rather swallow one of the huge as fuck knives Roque used to carry around than make eye contact in front of him.  </p><p>Instead of fuming, or at least instead of focusing on fuming, I tried to recapture how much fun it had been to introduce Jake to my goats.  How his eyes had gone wide when we crossed over the hill and came to their enclosure, grin growing as he took in the brightly colored pool noodles and tennis balls I had to utilize to keep them from using their tiny horns against one another.  </p><p>“Dad insisted I move them away from the house,” I told him as I parked the cart and jumped out to head toward the gate.  “The smaller ones,” I pointed out Nuisance and Roo, who were bounding toward us, “didn’t respect the boundaries of outside versus inside the house.”  Nuisance, my big baby was nudging my thigh as soon as I got inside the fencing.  “Hey you, missed me didn’t you?”  He was nuzzling my hand, and I knew he wanted to bottle feed even though he was weaned, against his will and trust me, his will was pretty fucking high handed.  </p><p>“Goats,” Jake was processing as he followed me through the gate, Roo deciding he’d do in a pinch since Nuisance had my attention, nudging his hand with her pink pool noodle covered horns.  “Why do they have-”</p><p>“Protection,” I answered, patting my sweet boy’s head as I made my way past their obstacle course of barrels and tires toward the real barn on our property.  “If their horns aren’t covered, they’ll use them on one another or my other furbits.”  I smiled over my shoulder as he followed me, petting Roo and chuckling as the other three olders came over to inspect the newbie.  “I want to make sure their food is filled, their water is clean and full, and-”</p><p>“And they get the love and attention they’re used to?”  He was learning, I’d give him that.  “If the yoga was surprising, this is even more-”</p><p>I shrugged, hip checking my shadow of a billy goat out of the way as I filled the food trough.  “I wanted to rescue some Highland cows, but Dad put his enormous, overbearing foot down.”  I sighed, thinking about the fluffy cows that had ended up homeless due to no fault of their own.  “We have all this fucking land and he’s worried about me overworking myself taking care of ‘unnecessary livestock’.”  I rolled my eyes as Jake, which he’d told me to call him during our ride out, found the hose and started cleaning the water basin before filling it.  “Mom thinks I should focus on being more of a behind the scenes charity maiden, like she was in her heyday.”  Another eye roll, and another sigh.  I giggled as Nuisance chose to “help” Jake with the water hose and one ended up on his ass, while the other ended up on top of the fallen’s chest.</p><p> </p><p>Shower over, I was wrapped in a huge warm shower sheet and walked into my bedroom, sighing when I saw Clay relaxing across my bed like he belonged there.  Ignoring him, I moved to my closet and flicked through hangers.  </p><p>“Avery,” he sounded exasperated, like a stereotypical older brother might be with his baby sister’s antics that had gone too far.  As though I had stolen his favorite football jersey without permission or flirted with his best friend when he was over to play video games, if only.  </p><p>I answered, taking full advantage of both syllables of his name, “Franklin.” My entire body was inside my closet, and I was faking more interest in my wardrobe than I ever bothered with before.  I pushed aside the suits that Mom had insisted on, while I was working at the office and that I was still forced to wear when I had to go in on the rare occasions it couldn’t be avoided, and stared at the dresses that I rarely wore.  What the hell, I thought, big brother was alive let’s go full throttle with the partywear.  </p><p>My closet rivaled my mom’s in the size and scope of it, which meant that it was part dressing room with a built in vanity and enough space for shoes that I would NEVER run out of room in my lifetime.  I found a dress that wasn’t too over the top for the type of celebration Rose was working on, grabbed some shoes that matched and pulled out panties and a bra to go with the overall look.  Clay was silent while I dressed, but I knew he wasn’t gone.  Biding his time, just like our dad, waiting me out.  </p><p>I brushed my hair and braided it over my shoulder, but ignored the makeup table.  Screw that noise, since I planned on dinner, dessert, and whatever toast Rose would make then I’d come to bed to Netflix and chill until sleep took me- or Jake, I smirked, wondering if I could convince him to join me for a nightcap.</p><p>When I came out of the closet, yeah yeah - snicker all you want, Clay was still sprawled across my bed, Ali and Sweetie snuggled like a yin and yang symbol beside him.  “Alright, Franklin Jr, let’s spar.”</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Use Your Words First, Then Use Your Fists...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clay smirked up at me from his sprawled position on my bed and I rolled my eyes at my larger than life older brother.  “Do you really think you’re dressed for a sparring session, Avery?”  He was taking in the dress and heels, and a part of me wanted to show him just how ready I was, but he was trying to push my buttons as only a big brother could.</p><p>“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Junior.”  His smirk dropped, he always hated being reminded that he was a sequel.  “Let’s lay out your issues with my interest in Jake and Jake’s interest in me, so we don’t ruin Rose’s little party plans for the evening.”</p><p>He groaned and sat up, forcing me to hold back a joke about his age catching up to him.  “He’s part of my team, Ave, that makes him-”</p><p>“A part of your team, Clay.”  I shook my head at what he was trying to press into being logical.  “Do you honestly think Jake and me playing hide the pickle is going to make him respect YOU less?”  I snorted.  “Did you pay attention when we came back from feeding my goats?”  Seriously, was my brother slipping in his observation abilities?  “He wanted the floor to eat him whole as soon as he saw you, if anything I think the morning after he touches me is gonna be magical for your power over him.  He’ll probably be willing to bumrush any danger you point to, just to prove he’s still YOUR guy.”  I shook my head and threw in another eye roll for good measure.  “Jake is a soldier, Clay, YOUR soldier.  The fact that he has a pulse and EXCELLENT eyesight with those glasses of his doesn’t change that.”  </p><p>“You’re so damn sure of yourself, aren’t you?”  He was smiling again, and I shrugged.  “When did you get so confident?”  </p><p>“I’ve always been confident, it was just hidden under piles of protective layers of my smothering family members.”  I sighed.  “I like Jake, Clay, he’s a nice guy.”  Clay’s soft brown eyes, so like our dad’s that I felt like I was prepping for the same conversation when he arrived, met mine.  “I can’t promise it’s love, but I won’t know if isn’t if we’re not allowed to get to know each other.”  </p><p>Pushing off my bed, Clay stood up and rubbed one of his huge hands over his face.  “I just don’t want Jensen to be distracted, Ave, not when we’re working to get our lives back on track.  And a lovesick, or heartbroken-”</p><p>“I’m not planning on distracting him,” I wasn’t, I’d keep my schedule the same, which meant that Jake would be on his own schedule too, I was a fucking adult after all.  “I work for a living, remember?”  </p><p>“You work from home,” his eyebrow went up, and I had to work hard to keep from rolling my eyes again.  “Even if you don’t want to be a distraction, you’re a distraction.”</p><p>“Do you want me to wear a burka and hide in my room until you all leave?”  I mean for fuck’s sake, Jake had already seen and knew me, kind of past the point of arguing about distracting him, wasn’t it?  “Clay, we’ve met, has whatever it is Jake does for your team suffered since we met?”</p><p>He stared down at me and we were at a stalemate, but his lack of response told me all I needed to know.  Jake hadn’t faltered, he hadn’t dropped any balls, Clay was just being proactive and Alpha male commander.  “I should go get ready for the celebration.”  He kissed my temple on the way out of my room, reminding me that regardless of how irritated we might be with one another, he still loved his baby sister.  Even if I wanted to slap the shit out of him.  </p><p> </p><p>Rose had outdone herself, again.  Every event she chose to take on, she went above and beyond the last one she put on.  Even if this was an intimate celebration, with only Clay’s team and the two of us, she’d managed to make a dinner that would make anyone envious followed by dessert and drinks with a feeling that we were welcoming my big brother home after a far too long time apart.  </p><p>Red meat, because Franklin Clay, Junior was nothing if not a red meat kind of man, coupled with starches and a few lighter dishes for those of us who didn’t want to feel the heaviness of dinner for days after it, Rose made sure that the conversation around the table and later in the family room was kept as light as the breeze that was coming through the open patio doors.  Or she was trying.  </p><p>“Remember that time-” was a common question that Clay would bring up, usually an embarrassing story about me, doing something I’d rather forget having done at an age when the statute of limitations for reminders should be up, and I’d sigh and Rose would try to change the subject. Until I finally decided that two could play at that game.</p><p>“Do you remember visiting me during my first year in college?”  I was sitting on the sofa while Clay was in the chair at the head of the room, with Aisha perched on his lap.  </p><p>His smile grew, thinking I was going to tell a tale of my big brother being sweet and caring.  “Yeah, it was around homecoming, right?”</p><p>My grin grew and I nodded.  “Yep.  I’d left you and my roommate alone while I ran out to grab some food, and when I came back you’d managed to push our beds together, you were screwing one another like animals on BOTH our beds-” I sighed, and took a long sip from my drink, plain soda since I wasn’t keen on alcohol.  “I ended up sleeping on the couch in the common room.”  </p><p>“Shit, I forgot about that,” he looked abashed, but I wasn’t nearly finished with the tale.  </p><p>“Yeah, she ended up slashing my tires, pissing on my bedding, and Mom had to come to the school to make a formal complaint to get a private room for me, since the administration seemed to think it was a simple ‘girl fight’ thing.”  I shrugged.  “She seemed to think that you were planning on calling her, or that it was more than a one off.”  </p><p>“She slashed your tires?”  Pooch’s eyes were wide, but his lips were twitching so I had a feeling he’d heard about Clay’s AMAZING taste in women.  “Wow, so it’s been going on for awhile.”  </p><p>“A bit.”  I answered, relaxing into the couch cushions.  “I can’t count on one hand how many times I’ve walked in on big brother with one of his MANY conquests,” my eyes were on Clay, not his current lady friend.  “Of course, the same could be said for walking in on Mom and Dad.”  I cringed, wishing there was some way to erase that shit from my memory bank.  “Didn’t you screw half of my debate team too?”  </p><p>“Avery Emerson,” it was Rose and I knew I was in trouble.  “Now is not the time for that type of discussion.”  </p><p>“You’re right, Rosie.”  I stood up, shaking off the evening.  “I think now is the time for Netflix and chill.  Dinner was amazing, and that cake.”  I smiled at the woman who helped raise me.  “You are a wonder.”  I hugged her and started to tell everyone goodnight when Clay stopped me.  </p><p>“Thought I was the old one, Ave.”  I waited, thinking I knew where he was going and hoping I was right.  “Didn’t you want to spar earlier?”  </p><p>“That sounds suspiciously like a challenge, Junior.”  I squinted and watched him studying my outfit again.  I knew he was taking note of every article he thought could be used to his advantage, and I hoped he understood that Daddy had been making sure that Mom and I knew how to use the same shit that Clay or other people might see as a disadvantage as an edge.  “Come on, let’s get this over with so I can go relax.”  I moved outside, stretching as I went, knowing that he’d count my turning my back to my opponent as a strike against me.  Sure enough, I felt the warmth of him as a warning and smirked, thinking he fell right into my trap.</p><p>“Rule number one,” he started, but my hand was already wrapping around his as it reached for my shoulder, and then the fight was on.   </p><p>Teaching my big brother that falling into the false security and belief in your own supremacy simply because you’re bigger and have the professional training of Rambo is a terrible idea was well worth the price of admission and the bruises I earned.  Seeing him flat on his ass was balm for my wounded pride, but it was short lived.  </p><p>“Here,” I held out my hand, waiting for him to swallow his own pride and take it.  “Come on, Clay, take it so we can get inside and you can go lick your wounds, or have them licked, and I can take another shower and watch mindless television until I pass out.”  </p><p>He grabbed my hand, and like a stooge I started to yank him up, only to have him pull and have me go asshole over teakettle.  “Never let your guard down, Avery.”  I was shaking my head as he got to his feet and pulled me upright.  “You’re not bad, Dad’s done a good job of making sure you won’t get your ass handed to you by a normal mugger.”  I glared up at him and wanted nothing more than to kick him right in his overly testosterone balls when my cell rang with Dad’s ringtone.  </p><p>“Hey, Dad,” I answered, putting him on speakerphone.  I knew he’d been watching, since the house was rigged with his little watchbots.  “How’s Mom?”  </p><p>“We’re fine, sweetie.”  He answered, and I waited, knowing he was holding back laughter.  “I see that you had a workout.  Maybe you should put that package out of sight out of mind for a bit?”  Yeah, good idea, before my parents end up not having any grandkids that carry the Clay surname.  He was having issues holding back his chuckles and I wanted to throw my phone in the pool.  “Remember what that weirdo who wants you to tie your body into weird knots said, try a downward cow pose or something and breathe, princess.”  Fuck you, Daddy, I thought, wondering how many volts Clay could take before he would be sterile.  </p><p>“Yeah, I’ll breathe through my nose, Dad.”  I rolled my eyes, and glared up at a grinning Clay.  “Any other prize platitudes you feel like instilling?”  </p><p>“Just wanted to tell you we’re heading back in a few days.”  Great, then the gang really would be all here.  “We’ll sit down and deal with the package then.”  My turn to grin, my eyes locked on Clay’s and I was happy to see him glaring now.  “Mom sends her love, have a good night.”  </p><p>“Night, Daddy, love you.”  I was much happier when I hung up the phone than when I answered it, but Clay was the opposite end of that spectrum.  Oh how the mighty do fall, I thought.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Sibling Rivalry Meets Show and Tell</h2></a>
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    <p>I chose to help Rose clean up after the celebration rather than rush off to my room.  With Clay looking like he’d need his newest leggy distraction to lick more than just the bruises I gave his ass, I figured I owed it to her.  I’d kicked off my heels and was carrying the glasses into the kitchen when I overheard big brother saying my name.  Clay’s voice carries at the best of times, even if he’s trying to be stealthy, it’s how I found out most of the surprises my parents planned for me during my childhood, so I played follow the echo until I found him holding court in the library. </p><p>“Ave adopts all these animals because of that,” he was saying and I rolled my eyes.  For fuck’s sake, he was on that old story again.  Let’s tell the tragic tale of baby Avery, shall we?  Well, he forgot the best part-</p><p>“Didn’t you think they deserved to see the actual physical exhibit?”  I asked, stepping into the room, grinning at Clay’s team’s synchronized jump, but proud to see he didn’t bat an eyelash.  “I mean, if you’re gonna tell a gruesome story, at least have the show and tell part to back it up.”  </p><p>Jake stood up and shook his head.  “Avery, you don’t have to show us anything.”  I just smiled up at the big, sweet lug.  </p><p>“Sure I do,” I shook my head and rolled my eyes at Clay.  “For a guy who didn’t want Jake to see me naked, you really do tell the strangest family stories, bro.”  Unzipping the side zipper of my dress, I shimmied out of it, happy that I went with a pretty matching bra and panty set.  You could have heard a pin drop in the room when they all laid eyes on my right side.  “I admit, it’s a mangled mess to look at, and Mom bitches that bikinis are out for me, but what the hell?  You can’t say it’s not a bad ass scar.”  From just under the cup of my bra to the edge of the waistband of my panties, red puckered skin, garish and terrible, but proof that I survived.  “Plus, it happened when I was a toddler, so I was a badass from like day one, you know?”  </p><p>“A dog did that?”  It was Pooch, oddly enough, and I nodded, thinking back to the day that Rose had taken me on a walk around the neighborhood.  Something she’d done regularly when I was little and a ball of restless energy.  </p><p>“Yeah, um, we went to the park,” I squinted, the memory wasn’t as clear as it used to be.  A blessing and a curse.  “The park down the hill?  It didn’t always have a clear boundary between kiddie park and doggie park, and I was running around like any asshole four year old does, and I guess I got on the dog’s bad side.”  I shrugged, it really was vague.  I sort of remembered yelling “Doggie!” and then “OUCH” and then everything went sort of dark.  “I woke up in the hospital and asked Dad and Mom where the doggie was and everyone lied to me.”  That I remembered perfectly.  I woke up, groggy, but worried about the dog.  </p><p>“And she’s spent the intervening years trying to save every four legged furry animal she can,” Clay pitched in, a small smile playing on his lips.  Indulgent, that’s how my family looked when they told the story and followed up with my rescues.  “She told us it wasn’t the dog’s fault, that it was -”</p><p>“The person who raised him,” I agreed, raising my chin in challenge.  “Domestic animals don’t automatically decide to aggressively attack people or children, Clay, I’ve told you this before.”  </p><p>“I know, Ave, I know.”  Again, he was pacifying me.  “Dad still won’t let you adopt or rescue any breed that has a reputation for aggression though, will he?”  </p><p>I bristled at the theory that my daddy wouldn’t ‘let me’ do any fucking thing, since I was a goddamn adult.  “Dad and I have an agreement, for now I live by that agreement, but once I leave this house it ends.”  And soon, I added in my head, if I ever found a place of my own that suited me.  </p><p>Clay nodded and I shook my head.  Asshole.  “Thought you were planning on an early night?”  Thanks for the reminder, big brother.  </p><p> </p><p>“Just helping Rose with the cleanup, then I’m off to bed and a book.”  I turned and walked out of the library, leaving my dress behind because screw Clay and his mocking bullshit.  And fuck the losers he was handling.  I needed a break.  </p><p> </p><p>I’d gathered all the dishes and loaded the dishwasher while Rose put the leftovers away.  She was spending the night, since she’d celebrated with a few drinks and after promising not to do anything detrimental to Clay’s evening - like say, let off the fire alarm on his side of the house - we said goodnight and headed to our own rooms.  </p><p>I’d just pulled on a nightshirt and turned off the overhead light when a soft knock made me look up at the partially open door.  Jake, standing as awkwardly as ever, illuminated by the safety lights in the hallway waited for me to grant him entrance.  </p><p>“Yes?”  He stepped inside and held up his hand, my dress dangling from one finger and I giggled.  “Oh, that.”  </p><p>“Thought you might want to -” Now that he was inside my room, he looked less sure than he was when he was just hovering in the doorway.  “I should go.”</p><p>“You don’t have to,” I bit my lip.  “I mean, if you don’t want to, that is.”  Shit, was his backwardness catching?  </p><p>“I - Avery, I don’t want you to think that I want to -” He swallowed so hard I could see his Adam’s apple bob in the dim light of my bedside lamp.  “I like you.”  </p><p>My lips curled into a smile and I felt warm all over.  “I like you, too.”  </p><p>If I thought that Jake was attractive when he played with the goats, or when he just stood around looking buff and hot, when he heard that I liked him and his smile bloomed in full force proved that I hadn’t seen Jake Jensen in his most attractive light at all.  Shit, fuck, damn.  </p><p>“And because I like you,” he went on, now that I’d given him strength, “I’m going to go back to my room, even if I’d really rather not.”</p><p>“But what if I don’t want you to leave?”  My eyes were wide at the idea of him running off NOW.  For fuck’s sake, we finally got the hard part out into the open.  Oh shut up, you people know what I mean.  </p><p>“A gentleman would leave, and plan a way to -” I never got to hear whatever bullshit Jake had been told on whatever geek board online about what women want, because I tackled him.  What?  I’m a strong, independent young woman who knows what I want.  And what I wanted was Jake Jensen to kiss me.  So I kissed Jake Jensen.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Like A Brick Shithouse...</h2></a>
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    <p>When I say I tackled Jake, let me advise other people to NOT tackle Jake Jensen or anyone built like Jake Jensen, my brother or any of his team.  They’re built like literal brick shithouses and you will get bruises.  Unless, as I was hoping and I wasn’t proven wrong, the shithouse you launch yourself at catches you.  </p><p>Thank God Jake had the reflexes of one of my younger cats.  Praise, Jesus, Amen.  </p><p>“Avery,” he managed to get out, right before my fingers slid around his head and pulled us so our faces were aligned.  </p><p>“Enough talking, Jake,” I muttered, nudging his nose with mine.  “Sorry for your glasses,” I felt like it had to be said, and then I finally got my lips where I wanted them, as his arms cradled my body, my legs wrapped around his waist and he stopped trying to argue with me.  A lost cause he’d soon learn to give up on.  Hops, since he hadn’t said no to a few beers with the boys, and some of the decadent icing from Rose’s cake lingered on his mouth and I took my time tasting both, before I found what I was after - Jake’s flavor.  A moan met me when his mouth finally opened under mine, our tongues touched and I counted myself lucky that he was holding me, because I would have fell over if I was in control of keeping us upright.  </p><p>My back touched the softness of my bed and I smiled into the kiss that he’d finally become an active participant in, and I was more than happy to feel his arms still locked around me.  The only thing that was ruining the feeling of warmth and the rush of lust that was running through me was the metal smacking into the bridge of my nose.  </p><p>Nipping at his lip, I pulled back.  “Jake,” I gasped, even as he dipped back in, causing the rim of his glasses to slip further off and the frame to smack into my eye.  “Ouch.”  </p><p>“Damn,” he pulled back a little more and I tightened my legs around his waist so he couldn’t go far.  “Sorry bout that,” he pulled his glasses off and put them on my bedside table as I squinted up at him through one eye.  “Let me kiss it better,” and then he lowered his head and did, gently kissing my nose, the bridge of my nose, my eyelid, and then once again my lips.  Damn, who knew Jake had game once you got him locked and loaded?  </p><p>My hands were sliding down his broad back, searching for the hem of his t-shirt when we heard it.  A quiet knock followed by a soft throat clearing.  FUCK.  A sigh from him and a groan from me, and I looked to the side and considered picking up something heavy and tossing it at the doorway.  </p><p>“Junior,” I growled, glaring at my enormous, cockblocking brother.  “Aren’t you on the WRONG side of the house?”  </p><p>“Thought I’d make sure you got to bed alright,” he was staring at my face, ignoring Jake, or trying to though I had to think it was difficult with him basically covering me and with my legs wrapped around him and holding him down to me.  “After all, you were walking around half naked and pissed.”  </p><p>“I’m MUCH better now,” I raised an eyebrow and waited.  “Night, Clay.”  Go away, get out, go screw your long legged distraction.  Begone.  </p><p>“Yeah, Jensen, don’t forget you have shit to deal with tomorrow.”  Emphasis on SHIT, I thought.  Fuck.  His eyes landed on Jake’s and I hoped that without his glasses Jake might be so miopic that he couldn’t feel the awkwardness returning to his body in full force, but I could feel it rush through him even as he hovered over me.  Well damn it.  “Good night, Ave,” his dimples were peeking out and it took everything in my entire body to not push Jake off just so I could pick up something heavy to toss at my brother’s huge obnoxious fucking head as he turned to leave.  I truly hoped that his gal pal got the worst case of period cramps ever and didn’t want so much as a fingertip near her for the foreseeable future.  Dick.</p><p>“Guess that’s my cue,” Jake sighed, staring down at me, but shocking me, he didn’t seem nearly as in a hurry to rush off as I’d expected.  His arms were framing my head and he was brushing my cheeks with his thumbs.  “I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t want to leave you alone in here, Avery.”  </p><p>“Don’t,” I bit my lip and he grinned down at me.  “We don’t HAVE to keep going, even if I REALLY want to.”  His chuckle vibrated the bed.  “We could just sleep.  You could hold me.”  Suddenly I really wanted that, for Jake to cuddle me while we slept.  “If you want to, I mean.”  Shit, that sounded so needy.</p><p>His eyes were studying me, like he was trying to read some complicated code and get the secret out of it.  With a small nod, he kissed my nose and pulled away.  “Alright, sleep it is.”  I unwrapped my legs and giggled while he shimmied out of his pants and kicked off his shoes in a heap of socks, shoes, pants next to my bed.  “What?”  </p><p>“Nothing,” I shook my head, pulling down the blankets to get my bed ready for company.  He took the side next to the lamp and table, where his glasses were already waiting, and held open his arm so I could settle in, ear down on his solid chest, his warmth against my cheek.  “Thanks for staying, Jake.”  </p><p>“Thanks for asking me to, Avery,” he whispered, kissing my head.  Then he switched off the lamp and we settled in for the night.  </p><p> </p><p>I wish I could say that with the amount of lust and sexual tension that we’d started with, sleep was hard to come by, but honestly we both went out faster than I think either of us expected.  When we woke up, within seconds of one another, I think we were more shocked by how easily we fell asleep than we were by anything else.  I mean, start with a tackling kiss and end with a snore?  That’s a weird case for anyone, especially a Clay.  </p><p>Speaking of Clays, Jake was trying to convince me that what Junior did wasn’t that big of a deal as I was contemplating just how to get my wonderful brother back for his constant interference.  </p><p>“He’s my commanding officer, Avery,” Jake was reminding me, once he’d gotten ready for the day and I was getting us breakfast.  “He just wants to make sure that my eye is on the prize, that my mind is where it should be.”  </p><p>“Uh huh,” I agreed, wondering if there was a site that would do the math for me on the voltage problem I’d contemplated.  I mean I didn’t want to NEVER be an auntie, I just wanted Clay to NOT have sex for the foreseeable future without wanting to piss his pants.  “How much do you know about tasers?”</p><p>His eyes went wide and he got quiet and suddenly found his cereal very interesting.  Strange, he had a sister.  Didn’t they ever prank one another?  </p><p>Rose woke up a few minutes after I finished up my breakfast and was washing out the bowls.  Kissing my temple she told me she planned on cleaning up the party mess and then she’d head home.  Today was her normal day off, but since she’d insisted on a party, she felt obligated to clean up.  I brushed that off.  “I took care of it.”  I showed her the dishes that were already run through the dishwasher and ready to be put away, which I’d do after Jake finished his breakfast.  “I have the linens in the washer, I know how to iron and fold, you taught me.”  She sighed and shook her head, but knew that I’d argue and she wouldn’t win.  “Go home, Rose.  It’s your day off, for fuck’s sake.”  </p><p>“You spoil me,” she admonished.  “I’m supposed to take care of you, but here you are -”  </p><p>“Hush,” I brushed her off.  “You’ve been taking care of all of us forever, dishes and tablecloths are hardly a big deal after you spent years wiping Clay’s ass.”  </p><p>She was shaking her head and laughing with a travel mug of coffee as she left, and Jake was grinning at me.  “What?”  I asked, shrugging.  “I was serious.  She takes care of this entire house.  And cooks meals that I’ll never be able to master,” I shook my head.  “Loading a dishwasher and a washing machine or dryer isn’t rocket science.”  </p><p>“You’re not what people would expect,” he offered, bringing his dish over to put in the washer, then wrapping his arms around my waist to stare down at me.  “The more I learn, the more I like.”  </p><p>“Good,” I grinned up at him, “it’s all part of my master plan to keep you.”  I winked and smiled as he kissed me.  </p><p>The throat clearing made me want to scream, but instead I deepened the kiss, making Jake chuckle.  Damn it, he was learning my tricks already.  Nipping my bottom lip he pulled back with a wink.  “Hey, Clay,” his eyes were on mine and I swear he winked.  “I’m heading to my ‘office’ right now.”  </p><p>I bit my lip to keep from cracking up, I’d hate to ruin Jake’s joke.  He booped my nose and headed out of the kitchen while I wiped down the counters and worked to get my urge to smack Junior under control.  I wonder if there was some non-lethal add-in that I could slip whatsername to make her have month’s long menstrual cramps?  I wasn’t above fucking with his sex life, not with him cockblocking me, even when I wasn’t in the zone to get cocked.  </p><p>“Ave,” exasperated again? Why? He keeps coming between me and MINE.  </p><p>“Junior,” I replied, moving to the breakfast nook and carefully cleaning the surface of invisible crumbs.  Then back to the stack of party dishes to put everything away, which I found Clay ready and irritatingly willing to help me do.  Shit.  “Those go in the hutch,” divide and conquer was my plan, that way he could go fuck off on his own, and I could not break half of Mom’s shit over his enormous head.  </p><p>Clay nodded and took the plates to the dining room while I started putting the glassware away in the kitchen cabinet.  Of course with his freakishly long legs and arms, he was finished in record time.  “The platters are up on their holders,” he told me, grabbing the basket I’d taken down to unload the dryer.  “I'm guessing you washed the linen?”  I nodded and he moved to the laundry room.  He was back with the basket full of the napkins and tablecloths.  “We ironing these before they go packed away in the hutch?”  </p><p>“Do you want your fingers ironed when Mom pulls one out and they’re wrinkled?”  I returned, his smirk greeted my question and he went back to the laundry room for the ironing board and iron.  Great, guess we’re bonding over domestic chores.  </p><p>“I can do it and you can go do what it is you and your team needs to have all hands on deck for,” subtle, Avery, subtle.  </p><p>“My team has their job assignments,” he grunted, plugging in the iron and fighting with the board.  “I’m here to help you, sis.”  </p><p> </p><p>“Do you really want to be here, with me, and a HOT iron, Junior?”  I moved to the board and pulled a tablecloth free from the basket, flicking it until it was free of any catches and started to smooth out the wrinkles with the heated iron.  Clay snorted at my threat.</p><p>“I have a shit ton of scars, Ave, and not a single one from you.”  An oversight, I was going to say, but shook my head.  As much as I was pissed and irritated by his annoying ass, he was right, I wouldn’t scar his stupid ass.  “Jensen?!”  He sounded surprised and I looked up and realized he was.  “I mean, he’s -” he was staring off into space like he was trying to puzzle out just what and who Jake was.  “He’s Jensen.”  He shook his head. </p><p>I giggled and bit my lip.  “He’s Jake, Clay.”  I worked the iron over the linen, thinking about how to explain the unexplainable to an overprotective brother.  “He's this big awkward dork, but he’s sweet and playful.”  I could still see the goat on his chest and him laughing and wet.  “He talks to Lolly, who can’t see or HEAR him, but he still talks to her.”  And sits on the floor and pets her while he does it.  “And I don’t know, Clay, he just makes me feel as awkward as he does.”  And needy, I thought of asking him to stay, just to sleep with me the night before.  </p><p>Clay exhaled long and heavy.  “And you like him.”  It wasn’t a question, it was more like he was convincing himself.  “Fine.”  I looked up from my ironing.  “Fine, you like him and he likes you.”  I shook my head at how much he sounded like a recording for an elementary school Valentine.  “I won’t stand in your way.”</p><p>“Wow,” I offered, not stopping my task at hand.  “How grown up of you, Franklin Junior.”  I rolled my eyes.  “You do know that I could give a huge gory rancid shit about what you would and wouldn’t allow, right?”  He snorted again and I shook my head.  “Thank you, oh wondrous big brother.  Thank you for this bounty.  However will I show my gratitude.  Shall I name our firstborn after you?”  I grimaced.  “Yeah don’t hold your breath on that one, Junior, two Franklin Clays is more than enough in this fucking lifetime.”</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Avery's Rescues (Which are MY Rescues)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Why yes, this is a filler chapter, thank you for pointing that out...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>While writing this story, I chose to use the names (for the most part) of my own rescue animals.  This was a conscious decision, because I LOVE my furbits.  That being said, aside from the goats (which I don't have YET) and MooMoo (which is based on my son's cat Kitty Boo- official title: Princess Kitty Boo Meow Meow of the Meow Meow Tribe) the others are actually MINE.  </p><p> </p><p>So, while I'm working on the upcoming chapters (which I swear I'm doing, but I have A LOT of stories, and I'm doing this wacko thing called writing an actual novel on the side) I thought I'd show you the inspiration for the most important characters EVER.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>Ali (Alice-the blonde) and Sweet Pea (the little black and white one)</p><p>
  
</p><p>Garfield (Yes, he does actually like lasagna, but he's not allowed to eat it)</p><p>
  
</p><p>Otis (the one Jensen finds in his guest room)</p><p>
  
</p><p>Along with Cullen (who raised Otis, by the way)</p><p>
  
</p><p>Lolly (my senior girl who is, honestly and truly, now blind and deaf) You can also see the back end of Kitty Boo (aka MooMoo) in the upper left corner.</p><p>I also have two other furbits, who may (more than likely) or may not make an appearance in the story:</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>Elise (as seen with Alice).</p><p>
  
</p><p>Marlowe (yes, he does look like Garfield, except he has orange eyes and Garfield has green).</p><p> </p><p>Kitty Boo is like Big Foot, she doesn't love getting caught on film.  So all I can give you is the glimpse above.  As for the goal of rescue goats?  </p><p>
  
  
</p><p>I didn't make that up, and Nuisance was the name of a REAL goat on my friend from high school's actual goat farm that I stayed at a bunch during my younger years. </p><p> </p><p>That concludes this photographic interlude. Thank you for your patience!</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Behold...Yeah, Here We Don't Go Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I went back to my regularly scheduled program once I had the party shit put away with Clay’s help and so did he.  Well, I imagine he went back to his regular schedule, never having been a member of the commando crowd I had no idea as to what a “regular schedule” for Clay looked like.  </p><p>Reports came first, since dealing with that was an easy opening for my day, then I moved on to press releases.  Usually Guardian Incorporated didn’t offer much in the way of new products, so press releases came down to public relations to deal with the fuck ups of an epic nature.  Like say, when the owner’s daughter decided to test the voltage capacity of a police or military grade taser on the testicular region of a degenerate asshole who happened to be employed by the company.  That would require a press release. </p><p>Lately, however, Mom had approached me to add on to my current payload and tasked me with not only GI’s official professional offerings she wanted me to start releasing shit about the philanthropy she insisted the company participate in, as well as having me dress up some of her other charitable side gigs.  It wasn’t digging ditches, so I tried hard not to complain.  </p><p>Once I’d worked through five PRs, I tucked my laptop back in my room, got my yoga crap back out, and got my workout crap back on.  First I’d go through the salutations, then I’d check on my trip, then dinner.  Simple enough.  </p><p>“Thought I’d join you,” I felt my smile grow as I took in Jake’s loose basketball shorts and hot pink t-shirt with petunias across the front.  “That is if I won’t throw off your stride.”  </p><p>I bit my lip and shook my head.  “I think I can manage.”  I told him to give me a second and pulled my backup mat from the linen closet and we walked to the pool together.  “Petunias?”  I was curious, since he’s a huge fucking guy, why he’d pick pink flowers?</p><p>He blushed and I wanted to drag him back to my bedroom and say fuck yoga, among other things.  “Yeah,” his hand went to the back of his head and he scratched his neck in an almost nervous manner.  “My niece plays soccer, it’s her team name.”  </p><p>Hip-checking him as we went through the sliding patio doors I grinned.  “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Jake.”  I tossed him a mat and started unrolling mine to get it into place.  “If you want, after dinner I can show you all the pictures of my illustrious games on the soccer field.”  I was laughing because if there was one thing my time on the soccer field wasn’t, that would be illustrious.  He looked surprised.  “My parents never missed a single thing that Clay or me participated in, not ONE.”  It was my turn to blush.  I swear, if they could have figured it out, they would have videoed my first time.  I wish I was kidding.  </p><p>“Your mom and dad went to your games?”  I was grinning as I nodded and started the first pose, watching Jake mirror me.  “ALL your games?”</p><p>“Games, plays, spelling bees, dances,” I sighed.  “Seriously, if Clay or me were there, so was Mama and Papa Clay.”  Even when Dad had still been active duty, from what the wall of photo albums showed, he hadn’t missed a thing.  “There’s an entire wall in the library that’s nothing BUT family photo albums, I mean they aren’t ALL of just our foursome.”  No, I was pretty sure one shelf was from before we were created.  </p><p> </p><p>We went through my out of court mandated yoga, then went off to tend to the goats.  Jake was prepared for Roo and Nuisance’s silliness this time and managed to stay vertical for the entire endeavor.  When we got back to the house, he went off to shower alone, while I washed up and went to the kitchen to create something edible out of the leftovers from Rose’s party foods.  </p><p>I was brought up short when I got to the kitchen and found it already occupied by Clay’s newest model.  Aisha, I reminded myself, Aisha.  </p><p>“Hey,” I offered, moving to the fridge to pull out the steaks and other leftovers, thinking I could chop up the meat and fix something from that and the leftover veggies.</p><p>She smiled in what I suspected she thought constituted a nonthreatening way.  It wasn’t marginally close, but lucky for her, I wasn’t a normal chick.  “Hey,” too perky, I wanted to advise her, but fuck it, let her try.  “I thought, since we’re staying here, I’d offer to help with dinner.”  </p><p>Her voice held a hint of an accent, which went with her gorgeous complexion and beautiful eyes.  What?  I can honestly say that other women are beautiful.  Fixing her crown doesn’t fuck up my own.  “You cook?”  I was careful not to make it sound rude or condescending.  Hell, I barely cooked, it wasn’t like I was gonna cast that stone.  She grinned and it lit up her face in a way I could see what, aside from the obvious, that Clay might see in her.  “Great, cause I fucking barely manage.  I hope you have some kind of idea of what to make out of this, cause I’m clueless.”  I gestured to the stack of food containers I’d pulled from the refrigerator and she laughed, deep and throaty and I thought she might be entirely too dangerous.  Why?  Because people, I might actually end up liking her, and that would suck when Clay ended up losing interest.</p><p> </p><p>Dinner was delicious and I made sure everyone knew that it was all thanks to Aisha because if it had been up to me, we’d probably have ended up ordering in or eating cereal.  My idea had been to chop the meat up, reheat it, toss some veggies back into it, reheat that, and hope for the best.  She’d chopped up the steak, added the veggies and tossed in some peppers and onions, found some tortillas and cheese, and somehow made fajitas and rice.  Don’t ask me, I basically chopped shit and stood back.  </p><p>After dinner, Clay and Aisha offered to clean up, which I almost argued about, but she shot me a look that clearly warned me that she wanted to have some kind of weird kitchen sex with my brother so I took that warning and ran to the library with Jake.  </p><p>“Behold,” I said, spreading my arms wide in front of the floor to ceiling bookshelf that stood along one wall.  “The family - shit I don’t even know what to call it.”  I grinned and his arms wrapped around me from behind and his chin propped on top of my head.  “Damn there are A LOT of albums aren’t there?”  </p><p>“And they’re mostly of you and Clay?”  I could feel his head tilt, like he was trying to make sense of it all.  I shrugged, I guess I took it for granted.  “That’s a crap ton of pictures, Avery.”  </p><p>I laughed, no shit.  “You’re not kidding,” I thought about the album on the next to top shelf, toward the end, that was where the photos from my hospital stay were.  “They take pictures of EVERYTHING.”</p><p> </p><p>“Everything?”  The lilt of teasing in his tone made me chuckle, but hadn’t I made the same joke to myself earlier?  “Don’t tell me there’s photographic evidence of the night that you or Clay were -” I snorted and smacked his hand.  “You put that thought in my head, Avery.”  </p><p>“You went in one direction, my mind went in a completely different one,” I muttered and felt his own laughter vibrate through my back.  “Oh now you catch up.”  </p><p>“I think I’m all caught up,” he moved in, closing any gap between our bodies and I felt just how caught up he was, and my eyes closed at the feeling of the heat of him.  “Let’s go to bed.”  </p><p>I nodded, pretty fucking sure that I was incapable of speech, but as I turned to face him we heard it.  The sound that was certain to make everything stop in its tracks.  The cockblock to end all cockblocks.  And boy was I getting fucking tired of it.  A soft clearing of a throat, but this time, instead of Clay’s voice, it was another even more dominant and domineering voice that came along for the ruination of my happy ending and then as if my night couldn’t get more complete the tinkling sound of another voice, the one who gave me life.  </p><p>“Hi, Daddy, Mom-” I gritted out, through clenched teeth battling to smile.  “Welcome home.”</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Safety First...And After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How best to describe Franklin Clay the First? Alright, I’ll do my very best, while trying to choke back the fact that he just heavy handedly outdid old Junior in blocking my full court press to my bedroom with Jake.</p><p>Take a snapshot of Franklin Junior. You have that stuck in your brain? Alright, now sharpen his edges, the angles of his face, tighten his body a bit. He’s still a brick shithouse, but he’s a leaner shithouse. Take that dark curly hair that Junior has, now add a shit ton of salt to that pepper. They’re the same height, have eerily similar voices, and they are annoyingly the same when it comes to allowing me to live my life the way I want to, although to be fair, Junior is rarely around so with him it’s rarer to see him exercise it.</p><p>“Sweetie,” Dad’s deep voice intoned, eyes lining up with Jake’s hand wrapped around my waist. “Are you going to introduce us to your new friend?” Shit, I nearly growled when I felt Jake’s hand slip away, and a return of his awkward geek.</p><p>“Daddy,” I felt my smile arch up into creeptactular territory. “I thought you were coming home in ‘a few days’. It’s been ONE.” Remain calm, Avery, throwing things never gets you anywhere other than sentenced to more yoga.</p><p>“Avery, honestly,” Mom, the voice of some reason, pushed past Dad shaking her head. “You know that once your father gets an idea into his head, he has to plow through.” She smiled at Jake, and I knew precisely what he was seeing. Me, slightly older, far blonder, and much more cultured. “You must be one of my Clay’s team members.” She held out one of her perfectly manicured hands, glittering with just the right amount of jewelry, and waited patiently while Jake blinked and tried to catch up. “I’m Amelia Clay, and you are?”</p><p>Jake finally caught on, genius that I felt sure he was underneath that heavy layer of geeky uncertainty. His huge man paw came out and clasped my mom’s hand carefully, and he found his smile wherever it had disappeared when my dad had announced himself. “Captain Jake Jensen, ma’am,” he nodded as he gave my mom’s hand a small careful shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”</p><p>“Captain?” Dad’s voice sounded less than impressed. “Captain of what, precisely?” Shit, Daddy, could you tone down the fucking interrogation for like two minutes? “Guess I’ll have to wait until your brother gets his clothing rearranged into a more modest arrangement for the full story of his team.” I nearly laughed, somehow knowing that Daddy and Mom had gotten to Clay first made the blocking of my first round with Jake slightly less irritating than it had been. Very slightly. “Jensen,” Jake swallowed so hard I was sure that Clay heard him in the kitchen. “Let’s sit down and you can tell me all about yourself, and your interest in my little girl.” FUCK.</p><p> </p><p>I don’t know how fucking long it takes a NORMAL human being to put on a pair of fucking pants, a white button down, and a pair of goddamn boxer shorts, but I know my brother was taking a fucking LIFETIME to put his shit back on. Jake had managed to nervously chuckle through his basic information, stumble over his interest in computer hacking and possibly admit to actually backdooring some GI files - yeah, that was something I DEFINITELY think Daddy wanted to pat him on the back about, and I realized that I could actually steer the conversation to safer territory when my mom nudged me with the very pointy end of her stiletto.</p><p>“Fuck,” I muttered, wondering if I had a hole in the top of my foot, but when I looked up ready to ask Mom if she’d lost her fucking mind, her eyes were wide and so were her nostrils and I realized she had the same concerns about my intelligence as I had for hers. Fucking duh. “Jake has a sister and a niece nearby, Daddy. Jessica, wasn’t it?” I reached for Jake’s hand and linked our fingers, solidarity, remember? “His sister, Jessica and his niece -” my elbow dug into his ribs, urging him to pick up the thread I left dangling. Safer territory, honey, grab it, go with it.</p><p>“Yeah, my niece -” and he was off. He told Daddy about the Petunias and the game he nearly caused an international incident at, but it was completely warranted during, which brought a similar event to Daddy’s mind and they were bonding. Thank the Lord.</p><p> </p><p>By the time Clay finally got his shit together, and I had a fucking irritating inkling that he got his fucking rocks off THEN dressed, Daddy and Jake were on firmer and more friendly footing than when they first met. We were far less tense and were actually all holding glasses filled with drinks and Daddy was regaling Jake with a story about my post hospitalized four year old self beating an older neighborhood boy to a pulp for kicking a dog, when my erstwhile brother and his newest ladylove came strolling into the library.</p><p>“And there she was, bandaged around her middle like a miniature mummy, standing over this boy who outweighed her by about thirty pounds and he was covered in his own blood, snot, and piss,” Daddy was grinning with pride and humor. “All because he had the stupidity to kick a damn dog in front of our little avenger.”</p><p>“Seems like we missed a hell of a story,” Clay offered, moving toward the bar, the gleam of his white teeth shining like the sun and daring Daddy to knock his ass down a few notches. “Sorry for the -” he stopped while he poured a glass of bourbon, considering his words no doubt. “Delay.”</p><p>“I’m sure you had your reasons, darling,” Mom indulged, her little boy to the bitter end. “We’re just happy you’re safe and home.”</p><p>Daddy snorted into his own drink, eyes meeting mine with one eyebrow raised in sudden comradery. “Safe and home,” he muttered, glaring as Clay joined us, Aisha blending into his side. “Safe, home, and one man down.” Yep, there it was, the start.</p><p>“Roque wasn’t prepared for the sacrifice that comes from -” Clay started, but Dad cut him off.</p><p>“He wasn’t prepared to give up shit when you got burned.” He shook his head and leaned back, Mom curling into him, hoping to curb his ranting. “You had a snake in your nest, you took an order that didn’t pass the barest of sniff tests, and now here you are, with your tail between your legs hoping to figure out how the fuck to fix it all?” He studied Clay through narrowed eyes. “And have you, son? Have you figured it all out?”</p><p>Clay was silent, staring back, holding his glass in a relaxed hand. A standoff, and tense if anyone outside was looking in, which two were. But for me and Mom? This was a random fucking day in the house, any day that ends in “Y” honestly. I sighed.</p><p>“Does it matter?” Neither of the ball wielding Clays bothered looking my way, but I knew that wasn’t happening during Alpha Male Fun Times. “Does it matter if Clay has the answers yet?” Still nothing. Again not a shock. “No, Avery, it doesn’t matter.” I deepened my voice, and then went on in another slightly gruntier voice. “All that matters is that Clay’s not dead and he’s home. With all of us together, along with the team he has left, we can figure this shit out together.” Still nothing, at least nothing a layperson would notice, but Mom and I could see the slight twitch of their lips. “You’re so RIGHT, together we get shit done, IT IS THE CLAY WAY. Now Avery can go get laid. Meeting adjourned.”</p><p>That did it, it got the silence broken at least. Both Clay and Daddy looked at me with their mouths dropped open and I grinned. “What do you mean Avery can get laid?!” Daddy growled, eyes moving from me to glare at Jake.</p><p>“I mean that I’m an adult and so is Jake,” I stood up, pulling at Jake’s hand that was still linked with mine so he followed me upright. “Which means, whatever happens in Avery’s bedroom, stays in Avery’s bedroom.” We started toward the hallway and I could hear Daddy and Clay both muttering at one another, Daddy blaming Clay for bringing Jake to the house and Clay blaming Daddy for assuming I didn’t have free will. “Oh and don’t worry,” I called back, smiling as silence descended. “I will be very careful if we go with the Pruisk head knot, I’ll be super careful of the tension, no loss of limbs on MY watch.”</p><p> </p><p>**** I felt like a visual was needed for Daddy Clay and Junior Clay (Shut up, I like looking at Jeffrey Dean Morgan and so do you people, don't lie.) ******</p><p> </p><p>First up, because we're introduced to him FIRST, there's Franklin Clay JUNIOR:</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>Not bad for a "sequel"...</p><p> </p><p>Then, because if you have a Junior, you HAVE to have a Senior...</p><p>
  
</p><p>A little more angular, a little more salt than pepper...Still pretty tasty all the way around, NOT to Avery cause EW, but to you know, non-related women.</p><p> </p><p>And because Avery NEEDS to cleanse her eyes:  </p><p>
  
</p><p>If only she could tone own those damn t-shirt colors...Wait, I know, why not just take them OFF?  </p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. We COULD Just Cuddle - Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jake looked like he wasn’t entirely sure what just happened in the library, but by the time I closed my bedroom door (I’d had a pet door installed early on, since having my dad barge in while I was double clicking my mouse wasn’t an experience either one of us ever wanted to experience - again), he was looking more like the hot nerd I wanted to see shirtless.</p><p>“Avery,” he was keeping his voice quiet, unnecessarily so, since the rest of the group and my family was on the other side of the house and I had a feeling he was talking himself OUT of what we both wanted.  Or what we’d both wanted before we had been interrupted by my dad.  </p><p>I bit my lip and stepped closer, invading his space, my breath catching at the heat pouring off of his body.  Jesus, what were they feeding him?  I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed above my eyeline and reached out, as my eyes locked gazes with his, my fingertips landing on his wrists.  “Jake,” he swallowed again, tongue flicking out to wet lips that seemed too dry for his or my liking.  “Do you REALLY want to,” I was testing the skin of his arms, soft, smooth, but covering cords of muscles, muscles he didn’t get sitting at a computer.  “If you really want to just hold me while we sleep again,” it wasn’t what I wanted, not in the slightest, but I’d settle for it.  </p><p>His mouth met mine, hot and hungry and I smiled against his lips, knowing that he wanted more than just sleep and cuddling.  My fingers left his wrists, moving with purpose to the hem of his t-shirt, eager to finally find out just how much Captain Jake Jensen had in common with those statues my mom had taken me to admire in Greece.  Fingernails grazed against skin that managed to feel smooth and soft, but hot and hard all at the same time, as I tugged the well worn fabric free from his body.  Forcing our mouths apart long enough to toss it behind me, then his fingers worked my shirt free, reminding me that once Jake got started, he had plenty of game.  </p><p>Jake managed to make me laugh, when his glasses smacked me in the nose, then eye again, and then moan when he nipped at my pulsepoint as he worked to rid me of the rest of my clothing.  He could merge heat with humor, and then roll it back to total lust with a roll of his hips.  Another round of laughter came when we got company in the form of Cullen, peeking over his broad shoulder, hanging on to the blanket that he luckily had covering him.  </p><p>“I think we have an audience,” I giggled, and his eyes darted to see the curious cat trying to understand what was going on in her human’s bed.  “Cullen, get down.”  The cat glared at me, but with a disgruntled meow jumped down.  </p><p>His laughter vibrated through me, another throb of need hitting us both with the added feeling.  “Remind me to buy treats for that cat,” he murmured, and then our lips met and we forgot everything but one another again.  </p><p> </p><p>I woke up wrapped in Jake’s arms, skin on skin, warmer than I think I’ve ever felt in my entire life.  At our feet were three dogs - Otis, Sweet Pea, and Ali, curled against my back was Cullen, and on the floor was Lolly. If anyone had asked me a week earlier to describe heaven, I’d have said my future house where I could rescue as many animals as I wanted and wake up with them around me.  Waking up like this with Jake, in a bed with the warmth of him, knowing that I had furbabies in the bed with us and more waiting for us when we got up, I realized that was pretty damn close.  </p><p>“Hey,” his voice was deep, a little hoarser than usual, and he snuggled deeper into the top of my head.  “I could get used to this.”  </p><p>I smiled against his chest, biting my lip and thinking about how completely goofy we both were.  “Morning,” moving so my cheek was tight against his heartbeat, as it had been when I’d drifted off, I sighed in contentment.  “I’m not opposed to this becoming permanent.”  </p><p>A finger found my chin and then my head tilted up so our eyes could meet in the early morning sunlight.  “I don’t just mean the morning after, Avery,” Jake offered, eyes serious, but without his glasses I had to wonder how well he could even see me.  </p><p>I started to nod, of course - I wanted to say, but I nearly groaned at the realization of what he must be thinking.  My flounce out of the library last night in front of my entire family, practically daring them to stop me from riding Jake into a horny lather.  He thought this was just a rebellion for me.  A way for his superior officer’s little sister, for the wild child of the family to sow more wild oats and to prove she was a badass.  Fuck.  </p><p>“Jake,” I started, but then, as I was learning would be a constant in our relationship and our life, a knock came to my door.  And before I could tell the interloper to fuck off, Clay’s voice called out, asking both Jake and me to come out, new intelligence was in and new ideas were being hatched.  While Jake’s presence made sense, I couldn’t quite understand why mine was being requested, but what had I said about the Clays?  Apples and trees...</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Apples, Trees...Ops...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jake groaned louder than me when he heard Clay’s order come from the other side of my bedroom door, making the idea of getting up and dressed marginally easier to face.  I wanted to try to bring the conversation back to what he started when we woke up, but how? When my brother was demanding our attendance, Jake’s as a team member, mine as - wait, what the fuck did he want me for?</p><p>“What the hell does Clay need me for?”  I muttered, pouting as Jake pulled away, even as his fingers seemed to linger, taking his sweet time to disconnect completely from me.  “You know -” I crawled to the edge of the bed, following his warmth.  “I wasn’t lying about the water conservation thing,” biting my lip, my heartbeat kicked up a notch when he pulled me into his arms and marched to my bathroom.  Oh, I’d definitely LOVE to get used to waking up like this every damn day.  </p><p>We managed to shower, and save water, towels, maybe some time too, and get dressed.  Jake and I were like magnets, coming together, touching, kissing, throughout our grooming and morning ritual.  I had extra toothbrushes, something that Rose kept stocked in all our bathrooms thanks to habit, so he didn’t have to go to the guest bathroom to grab his.  Standing side by side, we gargled and spat, then sighing, I knew he would have to leave me at least long enough to go change out of his clothes from the day before.  </p><p>“Come with?” His fingers were sliding between mine and I knew he was figuring it out.  That I was as hesitant to part from him as he was from me, that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a rebellious act for me. </p><p>Smiling, I let my fingers link with his and was led from my room into the one I’d given him when Clay showed up alive mere days earlier.  Perched on the bed, I watched as Jake hummed Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” while he changed, doing a silly version of what I guessed he assumed a male stripper would do in a similar situation.  Since I was as in the dark as he was, I went with it.  Silly, but sexy, that was Jake Jensen to me.  And perfect.  Even if, as I drunk in the sight of his naked chest in the bright sunlight pouring through the windows, his dimensions looked strangely similar to a Dorito.  </p><p>I was considering how to distract him long enough to see if he was Cool Ranch or Spicy flavored when another knock came, this time to his door, and the voice on the other side wasn’t Clay’s.  It also wasn’t nearly as considerate as my big brother’s.  </p><p>“Avery Emerson,” Dad called, sounding as if he was considering whether allowing my wing to keep its doors was agreeable after all.  “You and CAPTAIN Jensen have taken long enough to get ready for the day.”  My eyes narrowed as I recalled just how fucking long it had taken Clay to come into the library after he and Mom had gotten home last night and interrupted him and Aisha in the fucking KITCHEN.  “Come along, NOW.”</p><p>I took a very deep breath, so deep I could feel my nostrils widen with it.  I was trying very fucking hard to recapture the words of the guru Mom had brought me to teach me the ways of Namaste or whatever when Dad had negotiated the conditions of my anger management bullshit.  Center myself, find my focus, don’t taser my father’s nutsack.  You know, important shit.  </p><p>“Avery,” Jake knelt in front of me and grinned up from where my head had fallen to stare at my knees.  “It’s cool, we’ll go out, find out what the plan is, then -” his thumb brushed my lower lip, and he swallowed.  “Hopefully we can do yoga, play with the goats, do some laser tag with some cats, play fetch with some puppies -” I shook my head, but the tension started to relax a touch.  “Then, later tonight -” his face came closer and our foreheads met, noses brushed, and breaths mingled.  “We can tangle up in one of these beds again.”  Our lips finally touched and I forgot how pissed off I was at Dad and Clay, at least for a little while.  </p><p> </p><p>Everyone was gathered in the kitchen, well everyone but Rose, which made sense since it was she had the weekends off and it was Sunday.  I grabbed a bowl of cereal and handed Jake one too, along with juice for me and coffee for him, while the others waited in various stages of exaggerated patience.  Aside from Mom, she was two steps below ready to ask for gory details, but managing by the perfect tips of her manicure to NOT ask me just how happy and satisfied I was by the bulging man who stayed close beside me.  </p><p>Jake and I leaned against the island, hips touching, as we ate our cereal.  No one seemed ready to speak, which I found strange since we’d had TWO wake up calls.  </p><p>“Did the fire that had both Clay men pounding on our bedroom doors get put out before we got here?” I asked, taking a drink of my juice and meeting Clay’s gaze first, but not wanting to leave Daddy out, I searched for his right after.  “I mean, having both of you come to MY side of the house would have me assuming that shit was IMPORTANT so let’s get down to it.”  </p><p>Jake nudged me with his hip, but I just pushed back and didn’t drop my stare from Dad’s.  Never show weakness. Rule number two.  “Can’t have a meeting if all the cogs aren’t in place, Avery, even you know that.”  Ouch, remind me that I’m not a part of the team, in any normal sense of the word.  Strike one, point goes to Dad.  </p><p>“Well, unless you guys are waiting for Rose to show up on her day off,” I didn’t look around as I said it, eyes on the prize after all.  “Or are we counting all my rescues in the ‘cogs placement’, Daddy?”  Raising one eyebrow, I waited until I earned the lip quirk that gave me my half point at least.  “Then I imagine the meeting can get started, EVEN I can understand that, right?”  </p><p> </p><p>I ate while Dad and Clay went over what the two eldest Clay men had pressed craniums together and figured out.  Jake had pushed pause at one point, rushing to the guest room to grab another piece of tech gear, since he had brought a laptop out with him when we joined up at first.  I was zoning out, still completely at a loss for why my presence was needed at all when I heard my name.</p><p>“Avery what?”  I asked, looking up from my empty bowl taking note that no one had been paying the slightest attention to me, not even Jake.  “I’m sorry, did I interrupt your flow?”  The group, Mom included were all staring at me like I’d grown horns.  “You said my name, so I’d like to know when my purpose finally got mentioned.”  </p><p>“Weren’t you paying any attention?”  Dad sounded pissed, which was fair, but also pretty fucking funny in my opinion.  He’d insinuated that I was lacking from the moment I’d joined their asses, so why I’d bother to pay a moment’s attention to their asses was beyond me.  “Avery Emerson Van Houton Clay.”  Oh that was dirty, bringing out the FULL heiress name bullshit.  “The entire point of this meeting was so you could be read into the op that your brother and I sat up and planned overnight.”  I raised an eyebrow thinking about how sad it must have been for the two of them to go sexless while I was - OH.  Sour grapes, I nearly snorted.  </p><p>“I have a part to play?”  That was shocking.  Clay bit his lip, eyes twinkling and I knew he wanted to laugh - which made me want to make him.  If Clay laughed, then HE’D be on Dad’s shit list, not removing me from it, but he’d be a notch lower than me.  I’d take what I could get.  “In an op?”  I swear I could see the skin on Clay’s lip starting to give from the pressure of his teeth.  “Me?”  That did it, the feigned stupidity and innocence.  Wide eyes, complete breathless shock, it pushed Clay over, and with a snort that woke up Garfield on his perch with a mewling hiss he cackled.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Anger Management...Yoga OR---</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I knew I was treading on the thinnest of thin ice, but I also knew that Clay was right there beside me and he outweighed my ass by A LOT.  It was a test of who was taking a freezing dip first and I was laying heavy odds on big brother.  Seeing as he was a Lieutenant Colonel and I was just a paper pusher who worked for my daddy.  Me behaving while surrounded by a bunch of tough asses wasn’t exactly in the cards or expected, but Lt. Col. Franklin Clay Junior?  Oh, he wasn’t only expected to reign his bullshit all the way in, he was supposed to strap it down and beat it into submission.  </p><p>The term “tight ass” comes to mind when considering Dad and Clay in their current physical situation.  Clay’s team, Mom, me all bearing witness to two Alpha males laying out their plan, the Op, the way things were going to go down - or else. And what does Avery go and do? I make one of them lose his shit and cackle like a mad cow.  Oops. </p><p>“JUNIOR,” Dad growled, and even Garfield stood stock still with his hair in classic Halloween scaredy cat raised hair pose, eyes wide, waiting.  “Get your shit together.” </p><p>I’d been waiting for it, so I managed to NOT lose my own shit. I might have been the last addition to the Clay clan, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t KNOW how to run with it.  Sitting patiently while my elder brother choked down his mirth, I sipped the dredges of my juice and feigned an innocence that NO ONE in the kitchen would willingly credit me with having.  Once Clay no longer sounded like he’d swallowed one of my kittens, Dad’s eyes landed on me and I knew my short recess was over.  </p><p>“Avery,” at least he wasn’t snarling at me, I thought.  “Now that your little interruption has been reigned in,” shit, Daddy, do you have to just stomp all over my artwork?  “Pay close attention, sweetheart, it’s time for you to learn your role.”  Great, and I always hated it when Mom signed me up for pageants and plays.  </p><p> </p><p>I was blinking at my Dad’s grinning face when he finished regaling me with his and Junior Fuckface’s plan.  “Bait?”  My lips were barely moving as I said it, so irritated by the very idea of them using me, the SMALLEST of the lot so OF COURSE I’d be bait, that I could hardly utter the fucking word.  “You want me to parade up and down the hill like a fucking piece of -” Jake’s hand touched my thigh, warm and strong, but nowhere near the type of soothing he was hoping it to be.  </p><p>“Avery,” Mom’s voice, the verbal form of what Jake’s touch was trying to be, and my eyes flashed to her face.  Did my vision always have that tinge of red, or was that new?  “Sweetheart, I know it SEEMS like you were picked because of your -” she stopped, her eyes sliding down over the length of me and I felt a growl building inside of me.  At least I thought it was internal, but the way she flinched, maybe not.  </p><p>Dad tried to cut in, but I shook him off too.  Throwing up my arms, I begged off from the rest of the meeting.  Reminding everyone of my court mandated yoga, I insisted I should go perform my daily duty. Alone, it hurt to push Jake away, but I needed a breather to get my shit in hand, because I was angrier than I’d ever been and I wasn’t entirely sure just why.</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t go to the poolside. Instead of my usual sunny spot, I chose the spot I used during inclement weather or when I just felt like being inside.  The gym wasn’t used as much now that Clay was off with his team and Mom and Daddy were doing more travelling.  I preferred to get my cardio through play and fun times with my pets.  </p><p>Today, however, as the lights flickered on as I passed over the threshold, the music the last person to use the facilities coming to life and doing little to tame my temper.  “Are you shitting me?”  I grunted, moving to the wrap station to wrap my hands while I contemplated the shittiest music for working out EVER.  “Who the fuck would pick this shit?”  </p><p>“Rose,” Mom’s voice offered, and spine straightened as my muscles tensed.  “She cleans to it.”  </p><p>I nodded, taking care to wrap my hands so I wouldn’t fuck up my knuckles for the rage I was about to unleash on the sparring dummies.  I called out a change, refusing to pound the dummy to whiny emo chick shit.  As throbbing AC/DC hit, I rolled my shoulders and kicked off my shoes.  Another rule, no shoes on the mat.  I wasn’t surprised that Mom was my audience, she couldn’t stand to see me too pissed to see straight.  </p><p>“Tell me when you’re calm enough to talk.”  She leaned back, getting comfortable for the duration.  Another nod, and I stepped up.  </p><p>If yoga is muscle memory and sparring with a partner (like say, my brother) is something of a game, then this - beating the stuffing out of a dummy was pure cathartic therapy.  I tried to tell the court mediator person that THIS would work better for anger management, but NO, yoga was picked because it was a HEALTHIER outlet.  Healthier?  How, I wondered?  All it did was make me zone out to the point that I made lists.  This - I thought, as I slammed my fists into the padded parts of the dummy, feeling the push and give of what acted in place of flesh and muscle, was an outlet to get rid of the anger and rage that built up.  </p><p>Why was I mad?  Well, let’s think.  </p><p>There was the obvious reason, which is that I was picked solely because of my size.  I’m not ignorant of the reality of my size, I live it.  To be chosen to play bait for the big bad dumbass who burned my big brother and his crew simply because this dumb cluck was going to take one look at me and go “oh look at the widdle lady, bet she’s an easy mark” made me want to dick punch him so hard that his ancestors would end up sterile retroactively, and I CAN’T.  That’s the really fucked up part.  Because I’m BAIT.  <br/>That earned our resident dummy a hit so hard I heard a crack and considered easing up.  How fucked up is it that I’m going to be a mark because of my size, which means that I can’t actually attack the asshole that is the cause of all the issues because I’m the mark. Enough to give me a headache.</p><p>And, alright, there’s also the fact that Dad clearly is so happy to have Clay back that he was pretty open about how far I fell from the family tree.  Don’t get me wrong, I know my dad loves me, and I know he wishes I’d gone further into the family business as it were, but he’d NEVER said it in front of strangers.  Ever.  And he did.  Today.  The dummy took another shot, this one to the solar plexus, or where it would be if it had such a thing.  </p><p>Not only did he say it in front of strangers, he said it in front of Jake.  Another hit, hard and I heard another crack, but couldn’t stop now.  Why would he do that?  Say something so critical in front of people that we barely know, and one that he knows that I want to know more personally?  I couldn’t hear the music, or the cracks, or even feel my fists against the dummy anymore.  </p><p>“Hey,” Jake’s voice, his breath warm against my ear, his arms wrapped around me.  “I think you taught that dummy a lesson it won’t soon forget, Avery.”  </p><p>I blinked and refocused, dust motes were heavy in the air which made little sense.  The gym was almost freakishly sterile, Rose kept it so damn clean.  As my eyes finally focused I realized it wasn’t dust, it was stuffing, or whatever they put in those damn sparring dummies.  I’d beaten the damn thing apart.  And it had broken off its stand.  Shit.  “I did that?”  I swallowed past a dryness I hadn’t felt until I tried to speak, and noticed how quiet the gym was.  “Who turned off my music?”  </p><p>Jake chuckled, his nose in my hair.  “You did that,” he confirmed and he sighed.  “Your mom turned off the music, when the dummy died, she needed the music dead too so I would know where to come.”  I nodded, wondering how she knew to have him come?  “Wanna talk about it first, or shower?”  </p><p>I looked down and realized I was coated in dummy innards.  “Shower.”  My hand wraps had done their job, thankfully, but my clothes and my entire length was whatever the dummy was made of coated.  “Maybe I need more anger management than I thought.”  I murmured, but Jake just shook his head as he turned me in his arms.  </p><p>“No,”  he tipped my head back, so we could see one another better.  “I think we just need to teach you to use your words.”  </p><p>That did it, he made me laugh, and it helped.  For now at least.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Daddy's Little... Taser Zapper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jake helped me undress, unwind, and take a very slow shower.  Instead of waiting to talk it over after the shower, he brought it up while hosing off the first layers of dust.  </p><p>“I know that I get pissed at sparring dummies because of those smug expressionless faces they have,” he offered, his fingers untangling my braid and working shampoo through the strands.  “I mean where do they get off, with their no eye having asses?”  </p><p>I chuckled, shaking my head.  “Yeah, and they can’t even talk back.”  I leaned back, letting the shower stream flow over my face, giving me a reprieve and cleaning it free of dust and sweat.  When I straightened up, I opened my eyes to see him waiting, watching me carefully.  “I was pissed off at my dad.”  I considered those words, my words.  “I AM pissed off at my dad.”  I wasn’t seeing red, not right now, but Dad wasn’t in front of me, Jake was.  And Jake was naked, so I was in a different frame of mind. </p><p>Jake reached around me for the soap and a washcloth he’d brought into the shower with us.  Lathering the terry cloth up, he was taking the time to gauge his words, by the time the cloth was soapy and ready to touch my skin so was he.  “Because of the Op?”  He started at my shoulders and neck, since I’d managed to clear my face on my own.  I relaxed into his ministrations, letting him take care of me while I explained why I was angry enough to lose my shit on an inanimate dummy.</p><p>I told him all the reasons I’d seen red, literally.  Why I went off and beat the high holy fuck out of a dummy, getting stuffing all over myself and the gym and forcing him to come play babysitter.  </p><p>“Babysitter?”  His lips quirked into a smile at the term.  “You think your mom called me to babysit you?”  He’d finished washing all the parts of me that had been coated in stuffing, but that left some of my more personal parts untouched and neglected.  Jake’s hands, which he’d been keeping carefully above the waist while we worked on my issues, started to slither lower, reminding me of Jake Jensen’s ability to prove he had game when the time was right.  “I’m pretty damn sure that your mom would NEVER hire me as your babysitter, Avery.”  He pulled lightly on my waist and then our mouths were together and I forgot all about Dad and the stupid Operation.  </p><p> </p><p>We were dressed and walking back to the kitchen for something to eat when I heard the reminder that we weren’t in a bubble without rage triggers.  Jake’s fingers were still linked with mine, which probably helped keep the flare of anger from growing to a full roar.  </p><p>“Avery Emerson,” did Daddy always greet me with my first and middle names?  Was this a new thing or was it normal?  “I heard that you made a mess in the gym.”  </p><p>“Don’t worry,” I moved carefully to the refrigerator to pull one of Rose’s pre-made meals from the freezer to reheat for Jake and I.  Good luck getting a meal out of me, Daddy Dearest.  “I plan on cleaning it up right after Jake and I eat.”  </p><p>Dad grunted and I read the instructions that Rose had taped to the container twice, just to allow myself extra time to ignore him.  Preheating the oven meant that there would be time to kill, which in a Dadless kitchen could mean extra Jake nudity, but as I looked up from the stove I saw that Dad was in it for the long haul. Shit.  </p><p>“I think that you and I still have a few things to iron out, Avery.” Don’t roll your eyes, don’t sigh, and don’t throw something heavy at him.  Weakness, remember?  I nodded and took a seat beside Jake, which had Dad’s eyes narrowing.  “Your brother isn’t completely sure where this Max might make the move, which means that you are going to have to be more available.”</p><p>“More available?”  I tilted my head.  “Should I wear a sign that says ‘Take me, I’m bait’?”  I was baiting my father, dangerous, but honestly, what the fuck?  “I can’t go into GI more often, Dad, the court frowns on that, since it’s the ‘scene of the crime’ and all.”  I was using air quotes.  I was three beats from rolling my eyes.  I was wondering where the fuck my mom was.  </p><p>“You can go in if I send you in with documents,” loopholes, I nearly snorted.  Dad was utilizing loopholes to get me kidnapped.  “And we aren’t just thinking of GI.”  I waited, thinking that I’d better not test him with another bout of daydreaming.  “You jog at least twice a week off property, kick it up to three times.”  Great, I hated to fucking jog.  There was a reason I only did it twice a week.  “Start shopping more.  You’re an heiress, sweetheart, start acting the part.”  Did I imagine the shift of his eyes to Jake when he called me an heiress?  Was he actually playing the fucking class card?  For fuck’s - </p><p>I felt Jake’s fingers tighten on my thigh so I didn’t speak, or at least I didn’t say what first came to mind, which shocked Daddy, I think.  “Fine.”  I exhaled, and nearly cheered when the stove announced that the oven was ready.  “Let me get this put in the oven and we’ll hash out my new schedule.”  I knew I sounded exactly like a child who just learned that they had piano lessons added when they hated the piano, but damn it, I really hated this entire fucking idea.  </p><p> </p><p>We ate, I gave in and gave Daddy a portion after he admitted that Mom had been called away to one of her charity luncheons.  Clay and Aisha were off on their own, Pooch was in the pool house probably hooked up and connecting with his little family, and Cougar was doing whatever Cougar did when left to his own devices.  It seemed that Daddy was given the task of putting Avery to rights. Yay.</p><p>“Shopping like a Hilton,” I muttered, once lunch was finished and I’d put the dishes in the dishwasher and Jake wiped up the crumbs.  Dad had gone off to his home office while Jake was still with me.  He wrapped his arms around me as I sighed and leaned back.  We could look out over the pool and backyard, where puppies were relaxing and cats were sunbathing.  “Jogging even when I hate sweating,” his chuckle ruffled my hair.  “And errands into an office that I no longer have an office in, thanks to my temper.”  My hands covered his and I was sorely tempted to leave the gym for tomorrow, but that wouldn’t work, because Rose would be back to work and she’d by some extra sense sniff out the mess and clean it up for me.  “I have a mess to clean up.”  </p><p>“WE have a mess to clean up,” Jake insisted, and took my hand and walked with me back to the scene of the massacre.  </p><p> </p><p>As we worked, vacuuming up the loose filler first, then sweeping up the crap that wasn’t easily gripped by the vacuum, I tried to understand my dad’s attitude.  Why was he acting so weird about Clay being home, and bringing his team with him?  </p><p>“And that bit about me being an HEIRESS?” I was shoving the larger bits of Mr. Sparsnomore into an industrial strength lawn and garden garbage bag as I muttered darkly about my dad’s shortcomings.  “What was that all about?”  </p><p>Jake snorted, causing my head to pop up and our eyes to meet over the length of the mat.  When he saw my confusion he chuckled and shook his head, but I was no less confused.  “You really don’t get it?”  I shook my head right back at the broad shouldered dork.  “How often do you have a guy you’re openly sleeping with staying in the house, Avery?”  My eyes were narrowed at the question.  The answer was rarely, if ever, but he didn’t wait for me to answer.  “Better yet, a guy you tell your entire family you plan on having very aggressive sex with minutes after leaving their company, under the same roof, that happens to be a guest who is staying in the guest room NEXT to your bedroom?”  </p><p>I was going to shrug it off, tell this adorably awkward, yet truly naive hottie that he was beyond wrong.  I mean, MY dad, the man who basically screwed my mother over the entire property we stood on, in fact, I was pretty sure he might have had Mom pinned against this poor dead dummy at one point or another, if I strained my memory banks I bet I had that one hidden in there, was going to go full prude with ME?  </p><p>“Don’t even think of saying I’m wrong, Avery,” he was grinning and I bit my lip because even when he was being obnoxious about being right he was pretty damn sexy.  “I have a sister, remember?  And while my parents aren’t quite as tuned into what we were up to, my dad was super fucking weird when she started dating.  More so when the guys started being around the house.”  </p><p>I considered what he was saying.  Aside from Mom, Dad, and Clay, I was the private one.  I kept my personal life under wraps, and BEHIND CLOSED FUCKING DOORS.  So Jake was a first, in that they actually met him.  And I HAD sort of insinuated that I’d planned on maybe tying him up. Shit.  Damn it.  Jake crawled over the still slightly grubby floor and kissed my nose.  “It’s ok, I’m not scared off.”</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Don't Dare Me...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cleaning up the gym took less time than it would have on my own, but longer than it should have with Jake simply because he was so damn tempting.  The man was built for physical activity, and not all of it needed special equipment.  He convinced me to put a pause on those thoughts so we could take the trash to the bins, then we washed up, quickly because it was dinner time already and Mom sent Aisha to fetch us before we could sneak off to the goats.</p><p>“We need to -” I started, but Clay came out behind his - shit, what precisely WAS Aisha?  “What?” I saw him shake his head and rolled my eyes.  “I have goats to tend to, Junior.” I growled and his smile grew, irritating me more than I cared to admit.  </p><p>“Cougar took care of them, Ave,” what?  “Come on, dinner’s ready and it looks amazing.”  Great, just fucking great.  Another helping of family time.  Shit.</p><p> </p><p>When Aisha told us that dinner was ready, what she meant was that Mom had utilized her vast range of culinary abilities and dialed it in.  A buffet of all of Clay’s local favorites was waiting when Jake and I joined the others, Cougar coming close and giving me a short, quiet rundown of his visit with my goats, putting me at ease that they’d been fed and watered at least.  </p><p>Jake and I each took a plate, filled it with what we both found edible among Junior’s most delectable favorites from his hometown, and took our seats which I was happy to see Mom had kept open side by side at least.  While we all chowed down, I took comfort in his closeness, and the promise of being closer still, with no barriers whatsoever and no fucking audience very soon.  </p><p>Under the cover of the table, Jake’s free hand, his fingers at least, would graze my knee or touch my free hand and tempt mine into remembering to play nice.  Keep calm, let dinner go, so we could get to bed, and be alone, finally.  I’d like to think that we managed to keep track of some of the conversation going on around us, and that we weren’t acting like lovestruck kids, but a not so subtle dig from Dad made me think otherwise.</p><p>“If CAPTAIN Jensen would care to put both hands to good use,” my eyes flashed to Daddy’s, but his were too busy locking onto Jake’s to notice.  “Afterall, the dinner table really isn’t the appropriate place for THAT.”  </p><p>That was a step too far and I broke, snorting with the indignation of a daughter who had walked in on the very man who was attempting to climb onto a moral high horse so extreme that I feared for the fall he was going to end up taking.  It worked, at least in breaking the staring contest that was rendering Jake almost incapable of blinking or moving his now pair of hands from the safety of the tabletop.  Dad’s eyes met mine in a squint of challenge and I was more than ready for it.  </p><p>“Are you REALLY going to pull that card, Daddy?”  I didn’t move, but neither did the baby batter portion of my DNA. I had to learn it from somewhere didn’t I?  “After how many times I walked into THIS room and caught you and Mom on THIS table?”  Not a single noise was heard aside from the steady rhythm of breathing from the Clays, pretty sure everyone else stopped breathing altogether.  “Or the buffet?  Or the walls?  Or -”</p><p>“I think we all get the picture, Avery.”  Mom cut in, clearly tired of my shit, but NOT her husband’s.  Strange how that goes.  “As for you, Frank, I think you’ve said enough for tonight as well.”  Oh, well, color me surprised and corrected.  “Avery and Jake have behaved themselves far better than most members of this family can claim, both past and PRESENT.” I didn’t look, but I had a feeling she’d just shot a daggered look at Junior.  “Now, why don’t you two have an early night,” I didn’t want to break first, showing weakness to Daddy wasn’t something I ever wanted, but especially NOW, but Mom was giving me an out.  I glanced at her and saw a smile hinting at her lips that finally broke when mine answered.  “Go, and have a good night.”  </p><p>I stopped only long enough to kiss her temple and whisper my gratitude and my own good night.  I almost came back for our plates, old habits die hard, but she waved us off.  </p><p>“You cleaned up after the party that Rose insisted on,” she reminded me, “ go, Avery.”  I didn’t need a third offer.  Linking fingers with Jake, without more than a general “goodnight to the rest, we left for our side of the house.  </p><p> </p><p>I was tempted, as Jake and I finally drifted into my bedroom, to leave my door wide open.  I’d realized that I’d seen every member of my family in compromising positions and it seemed that they’d made some irrational decision that I was of a higher standard where sex was concerned.  Why not just leave the door open, lights blazing?  Hell I could just do a video link and upload it to the family channel.  </p><p>My family was making me insane, I thought, as Jake pulled me closer.  The door was firmly shut behind us, and as he carefully removed each piece of my clothing, my tension seemed to drip away with the fabric, until it was just him and me again.  Something I was clearly getting used to.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Hook, Line, and ... Have Y'all Ever Been Bait?!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My new schedule began the next morning, tempered only by waking up in Jake’s arms, and followed by a lengthy shower that was definitely Jake’s way of negotiating for me to behave in the way my dad and brother expected me to.  Trust me, if Jake was willing to wake me up this way every damn day, I’d be more than willing to go along with Daddy and Clay’s stupid script with less bitching than my tiny body would put out naturally.  </p><p>If you’d ever seen Jake Jensen fully naked and covered in bubbles, which you won’t because I’d beat you bloody, you’d understand my compulsion to go with the flow.  </p><p>While being put into a more malleable state, I wasn’t completely devoid of my own personality.  I pulled a few choices for attire for my first day as bait. Since I’d be jogging, then running errands to the office, and - God help us all, shopping, I would need a few wardrobe changes.  </p><p>“Do you really think that is a good idea?”  Jake was barely containing his laughter, and I didn’t really want him to.  I was pulling on my first costume, the athletic look, and I knew exactly what he was talking about.  </p><p>I turned to face him and made sure I was wearing the most exaggerated perky look I could force my face into.  “Now, Jake, isn’t the point to make Maxi-poo grab my tiny ass?”  The shirt was tight and bedazzled with the word “SNACK” across my tits, it was a joke clearly, something my mom had grabbed on one of her and Dad’s many trips.  Something NO ONE ever expected me to actually wear in public.  “I have another one in here that says ‘JUICY’, if you think that’s better?”  I bit my tongue and he shook his head laughing before coming close enough to kiss me.  </p><p>“You’re incredible, Avery,” I was on tiptoes to keep contact, but Jake was helpful and cupped my ass through the very tight shorts I’d paired the stupid shirt with and lifted me so I could wrap myself around him.  “I’m sure your dad and Clay are going to pop a blood vessel between them, but I think you’re fucking amazing.”  </p><p> </p><p>With that in mind, I grabbed my earbuds, my cell phone, and headed off for my extra dose of jogging that I fucking hated.  Dad stared at my outfit, but refrained from offering any feedback while Clay lamented the narrow choices that it gave for hiding the tracking device and bug to keep me company. </p><p>“So I get to keep Jake inside me all day?”  I caught Jake’s eye and grinned at how red and purple he could get in public.  “Maybe next time lead with that when selling the op to me.” </p><p>“Ave,” Clay was tucking the earwig into my earbud, making them one, “maybe try to keep Jake alive by NOT making him a target for Dad’s fucking rage?”  His voice was quiet enough that I was fairly certain Dad couldn’t hear him.  “You like him, right?”  </p><p>I sighed, “yeah, I do.”  Which sucked, because pissing Dad off was pretty fucking fun, but getting Jake maimed would suck far worse.  “Alright, so I jog down the hill and around the park and then back up the bike path,” I thought the best way to fix shit was to pretend I didn’t say anything bad at all.  “If I have to do it more days than usual, I don’t see the point in diverting from the same course.”</p><p>“Right,” Dad offered, grabbing my water bottle from the fridge and handing it to me.  “While you jog, keep the music to a lower level than eardrum bursting, that way not only Jake can hear you, alright?”  </p><p>I nodded and he walked me out.  Dad stayed with me in the driveway while I stretched, talking me through the finer points of some of the self defense shit that I hadn’t touched in awhile.  “But I can’t incapacitate him, right?”  I groaned, touching my toes.  “The point is to get Max to take me.”</p><p>“Take you, but not hurt you, Avery.”  Dad stepped closer to me.  “Make sure he knows you're a Clay, princess.”  With a kiss to my forehead and a pat on my back I was off on my run.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing happened during my jog, or my shopping trip.  Aside from mind numbing boredom.  I hated to shop.  Unless it was for my pets or for a purpose.  Mindless shopping because I could?  Boring.  Glancing at the files I had on the passenger seat of my car, I felt another sigh build.  Last errand on my list for day one of my ‘routine’, Guardian Incorporated.  </p><p>“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Dad’s voice cut in, as I moved through traffic.  Throughout the day, Dad, Clay, and Jake had given me mini pep talks.  They weren’t as helpful as they hoped to be, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t tell them that.  “One more stop and then you can come home.”</p><p>“Yep,” I agreed, pulling into the garage after being nodded through the security gate.  “One more chore then fetch and yoga.”</p><p>Soft chuckles broke through my earbud and I smiled.  “Never thought I’d hear you sound happy about the yoga, princess.”  The chuckles belonged to all three men in my life, but the comment was fully Daddy.  </p><p>“Yeah, well don’t hold me to it for long.”  I muttered.  Grabbing the files and  my employee badge, I beeped my car locked and headed for the bank of elevators in the employee garage.  </p><p> </p><p>The first couple of days were simple and non-eventful.  I jogged.  I shopped.  I did errands to GI.  We added stops and errands that made sense.  </p><p>Rose was back at work.  She didn’t say a word about the missing practice dummy or about my new schedule, which says a lot about how long she’d been with our family.  </p><p>Jake had moved into my room, there seemed to be NO point in keeping up some stupid pretense in having his things in a separate room, and forcing Rose to keep it in the same state as a room that actually had a person staying in it.  </p><p> </p><p>It was a regular day, at least my NEW regular.  Wake up wrapped up in the warmth that was Jake Jensen, get a hot shower to make my day a little easier to face, then dress for a jog that I’d rather not fucking deal with - with an earbud in my head with music and three men giving me their version of motivational advice.  </p><p>Once I was miserable from the exertion, I’d come home for a less pleasant shower, redress in my next costume change, this time for mindless shopping and whatever bullshit “look at me” errands the men in my family devised for Max to find me doing.  A bundle of “files” for good measure next to me in the car, and away I’d go, my earwig in place.  </p><p>Jake, Daddy, and Clay would take turns to tell me how good I was doing or tell me how fabulous I was in all ways shapes and forms.  I’d maneuver through traffic and I’d work through the stores and the shiny happy people that I was supposed to enjoy dealing with on the daily.  Spoiler: I wasn’t enjoying dealing with these people on the daily.  </p><p>Off to GI, where I’d be waved through the gate, onto the employee garage, into the employee elevators and up through the floors.  Dropping a file here, there and everywhere until I was back in my car and home.  Except, today, I made a different choice.  </p><p>“What if I don’t park in the garage?”  I had to ask out loud, the earwig wasn’t a mindreader, thank fucking God.  No one answered, so I went on with my idea.  “If I go in through the main entrance, maybe Max will see me.  I mean it’s not like he has the same access as I do.”  Fucking lightbulb moment.</p><p>“Try it,” Clay, the voice of reason, or at this point fucking try anything.  “Give it a shot, Ave.”  </p><p>“I plan on it, bro.”  I was pulling up to the curb, hoping that I had the necessary shit for the parking meter.  “Let’s hope I don’t get a fucking ticket, OK?”  </p><p>The light chuckles told me they were tense, but hopeful.  Could family members and your boyfriend really be hopeful for your possible kidnapping?  Yes, I figured.  Yes, they could.  I grabbed the files and some change from the cupholder and clipped my badge onto the top folder.  Here goes nothing.</p><p> </p><p>I was waiting at the first bank of elevators, holding the files and doing the mental math for how long the meter would give me before I’d have a ticket to pay, when I felt it.  The tingle that tells you someone is paying attention to you.  Close attention.  </p><p>The mantra started in my head. “Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.”  The worst thing I could do was look, right?  I mean if Max was actually here, looking would be the tale tell sign that I KNEW.  </p><p>The elevator dinged open and I stepped onto it, alone.  And as the doors were about to slide shut, a voice called out asking for me to hold it.  I just managed, and the person who stepped inside was so benign that I doubted highly that it was the Max that my brother was looking for.  This man?  This linen suited, perfectly coifed, somehow pansy-assed looking man was a black ops burning psycho?  REALLY?</p><p>“Do you mind pressing 3 for me?”  He asked and I shook my head and tapped the button.  “Thank you, Miss?”  </p><p>“You’re welcome.”  I stepped to the right, putting a bit more space between us and focusing on the files in my hand.  </p><p>“That’s not very friendly,” I didn’t answer, but he didn’t really need me to.  “I’d think that the daughter of Guardian Incorporated’s founder would want to put on a more welcoming demeanor for a prospective client.”  </p><p>I looked up to see him staring down at me with a hint of a smirk on his lips.  “I’d expect a prospective client to know that the daughter of the founder is in disgrace right now, so pandering to prospective clients isn’t high on her to-do list.”  </p><p>“Touche, Miss Clay.”  He gave a small tilt of his head, point to me.  “I guess I missed that tidbit.  Whatever could such a striking young woman do to fall into ‘disgrace’ was it?”  </p><p>I moved slightly closer to him and tilted my head closer too.  “I tasered an employee's balls when he muttered ‘nepotism’ at me a time too many.”  A shrug of my shoulder and I moved back to my original position.  “Now I work from home, unless I’m forced to bring paperwork in that can’t be faxed or digitally sent.”</p><p>He was grinning at me with real amusement now.  “Pity, I’m sure you add more than just beauty to the workplace, Miss Clay.”</p><p>My floor dinged and I exited the elevator.  “It was nice to meet you, Mister -”</p><p>“Oh, I think we’ll meet again real soon, Miss Clay.”  He was fixing his cuffs and I noted that one hand was wearing a leather glove.  “Very soon.”  </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t be completely sure,” I muttered once the elevator doors were shut and it started to move to the next floor.  “But I’m pretty confident that Max and I just shared an elevator.”</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. What If the Fish Picks A Different Hook?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anti-climatic. That’s what sharing an elevator with Max was because it wasn’t as if our staff could do anything to hold him or show our hand.  Max wasn’t actually wanted for anything.  He was something of an enigma.  The entire fucking point was to get Max to grab my ass, and instead he just rode the elevator and acted polite.  </p><p>I told my three earbuddies, and they pulled the video, confirmed that Max was my elevator buddy, and then we - well we went back to the same shit different day.  Literally.  Wash, rinse, repeat. </p><p>If it worked once, then clearly we should be able to net his ass again, right?</p><p>I had doubts, but who was I in this mess?  Bait, remember, that’s who I was in this mess.  The worm on the hook.</p><p> </p><p>My first tingling, niggling feeling of something being terribly wrong came Wednesday morning.  Rose had a schedule she kept almost religiously.  In fact, I couldn’t remember a time she missed one of her scheduled days, she’d never taken a sick day.  I was having my breakfast, with my shorts and another one of the many ridiculous shirts in place on the off chance that Max decided to pop up on my extra jogging trips, when I glanced at the clock.  </p><p>“Dad,” he was flipping through the paper, his breakfast almost crumbs forgotten on his plate and his cup had been refreshed by Jake as he grabbed another cup for himself, so I got a grunt to let me know he heard me.  “It’s almost ten.”  Another grunt, but I saw his eyes shift to the top of the paper and then they met mine.  “Did you run Rose through the same op shit that you ran me through?”  I felt sick, Rose, OUR Rose at the mercy of Max - who looked like a pansy but this asshole had killed children without a hint of indecision.  She’d been given self-defense classes, everyone tangentially involved with our family was, but Rose was ROSE.  </p><p>Clay came into the kitchen to grab another cup of coffee and he picked up on the tension immediately.  “What?”  My eyes wandered back to the clock and so did his, and somehow he knew.  “Where’s Rose?”  </p><p> </p><p>On the upside, I didn’t have to go jogging.  On the downside, Rose was missing.  </p><p>Mom and I had called her cell phone with the result that we both managed to get her voicemail, which did nothing to soothe either of our nerves.  Clay and Dad, while clearly the more tactical and hardass of the family, were doing a better job of hiding their worry under a heavy layer of stoicism, but as Clays we knew a layer of shit when we saw it.  They were as worried as we were, and while Jake worked to track Rose’s cell phone, Clay had another computer working with one of his programs hacking into the traffic cameras between her house and ours.  </p><p>Nothing.  That’s what we were finding as the minutes ticked down into hours.  And I was getting more and more anxious.  As my anxiety ratcheted, so did my energy level and Mom sensed it as easily as Clay had the tension when he walked into the kitchen.  </p><p>“Avery, let’s go to the gym.”  I shot her a look that I hope she understood meant I was less than receptive to the idea of leaving while they were in the middle of searching for Rose, but she shook her head and her lips were thin enough to cut paper.  “Now.”  </p><p>I was practically vibrating as we walked out of the library, where Clay and Dad had set up the search.  I hadn’t noticed that Aisha, Cougar, and Pooch weren’t around, but Mom offered that they were actually on foot and in Cougar’s case, I thought, in perches, taking a look around to try to pick up Rose’s tracks.  She was telling me, as she led me to the gym, that everyone was doing their best to find her.  Rose was a priority, but I needed to calm the fuck down.  </p><p>In the gym, she sighed as Rose’s choice hit our ears.  Instead of changing it, I stiffened my spine and wrapped my hands.  “You can change it,” but I shook my head.  </p><p>Crappy, emo chick shit would have to do because Rose had been the last person in the gym.  Kicking off my shoes, I stepped onto the mat where a new dummy had been put in the place of the one I’d destroyed.  Staring into the unseeing face, I visualized the dark hair, the smug face and the linen suit and then I went to work.</p><p> </p><p>Mom only stopped me when she thought I needed hydration, or when she thought my hand wraps might need changed.  Aside from that, she let me beat the stuffing, literally, out of dummy number two.  Since Jake was busy and she knew that I would rather he stay that way while Rose was missing, she kept me company.  </p><p>“Here,” she stepped up and handed me another bottle of water, smiling because I was pacing myself much better than the last time I handed the dummy its ass.  “Are you feeling less -” she considered how to follow up, but shook her head.  “Well?”  </p><p>I was out of breath, a well earned sweat coating me and saturating what would have been my jogging clothes, and I didn’t feel as on edge as I had when we left the others to come into the gym.  The music that was playing was starting to annoy me, which was a good sign too.  I nodded and stepped off the mat, happy to see that the dummy was still standing, even if it was a little worse for the wear.  </p><p>Taking a long pull from the bottle she handed me, I gratefully took the towel she offered next.  “Thanks, Mom.”  We walked to the bench where I’d kicked off my shoes before hitting the mat.  Sitting down, I stared at the tiny flecks of dummy dust that were dancing in the artificial light of the gym while Rose’s craptastic music continued to assault our ears.  “It should be me.”  I felt it gnawing at my insides, the fear that Max - a man who looked like he wouldn’t tie his own fucking shoelaces could be hurting ROSE of all people.  “I was pissed at everyone for even thinking of making me do it, but it SHOULD BE ME.”  </p><p>“Hey,”  I turned to look into what I knew everyone would say was a mirror of my future.  My mom, the older ME.  “Don’t do that, Avery.  Don’t blame yourself for something that a monster does.”  I stared at her, wondering how she managed to get over what happened to her during her fateful Spring Break.  “No one decides what bad men do, but bad men.  Even if your father and brother think they’re incredibly smart and better at the game.”  She fidgeted with her bracelets and I glanced down, seeing the faint lines that were still visible after so many years.  When I looked back up a smirk had found a home on her lips.  “People think I wear them because they’re sentimental, because your father gave them to me when he rescued me.”  He did, I knew the story like I knew all the others.  “He gave them to me so I could hide the open wounds that the wire they bound me in cut into me.  Even with the bandages, I felt self conscious.”  </p><p>I bit my lip, wondering if Rose was going to need her own bracelets.  “What if we don’t -”</p><p>“Don’t do that either, Avery Emerson.”  My eyes were burning and I was fighting the tears.  “Don’t give up before we even get started.”  She sounded as firm as she had when she cut Dad off during his attitude with Jake over dinner.  “We’ll find Rose. We will, and I almost feel sorry for this Max.”  I stared at her in disbelief.  “What?  I can have compassion for a monster who has fucked up so massively as to have brought down the wrath of the Clay family by attacking one of our own.”  </p><p>I sat up straighter, she was right.  Max didn’t know who the fuck he was messing with, and taking Rose was a bridge too far.  </p><p> </p><p>“There’s my girl,” Mom smiled.  “Now, go get a shower and redress.  We’ll make lunch and see where we are in the search.”  She helped me off the bench and clucked me under my chin.  “Remember Avery, Clays aren’t quitters.”  </p><p>I nodded.  Grabbing my shoes, I kissed her cheek on my way out.  I grinned when I noticed that she was kicking her own shoes off as I was leaving.</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Comfort Food</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I was showered and dressed in more day to day clothing, back in the kitchen with my head in the freezer looking at Rose’s handiwork and thinking that maybe crawling INSIDE the freezer would be a GREAT idea.  Seeing Rose’s handwriting, her instructions about how to recreate her masterpieces of meals, how to do what she did so effortlessly was another reminder that she wasn’t HERE.  </p><p>I knew Mom had taken her turn on the mat, that she wanted to go it alone, so I had let her.  We Clays, each of us dealt with the upheaval in our lives in our own way.  For the ladies, the sparring dummies would be taking the brunt of it.  Dad and Clay put their focus to work with plans and whatever soldiers do with all their toys.  </p><p>I was staring at the wall of meals, wondering if I could climb in among them, when arms wrapped around me.  Warmth that was a tad hotter given the time I had spent in front of the icy cold of the freezer, Jake’s chin propped on top of my head.  “Your hair is still damp,” I hummed my agreement and he chuckled.  “You’ll catch a cold standing here.”  </p><p>“Will I?”  I leaned back, into his warmth and sighed.  Letting his arms cradle me and the freezer door shut, my eyes closed.  “Do I want to know the progress you have or haven’t made?”  </p><p>Jake grunted and I sighed again.  “Clay told me Rose has been trained like you were, Avery.”  I shook my head and turned so I could look up at him.  “Tell me.”</p><p>“Rose trained,” I admitted.  “But she didn’t enjoy it or commit.” I thought about how she went through the motions enough to get Dad off her back so she could go back to her baking and the ‘chores’ she loved.  “Mostly she did the minimum that was required to make Dad stop bitching and worrying.”</p><p>“You think she won’t be able to take it if Max or one of his people decide to play nasty.”  Jake was studying me and I nodded, my chest tightening.  “Rose is smart, isn’t she?”  I nodded again.  “Then she won’t antagonize him, Avery.”  I waited, hoping that Jake knew SOMETHING I didn’t.  “Max wants to be the smartest guy in the room.  He is dangerous, I won’t lie about that, but he won’t hurt her just to do it.”  I could tell he believed it, but this was Jake.  The sweetest guy in my brother’s group.  </p><p>“You really think so?”  I wanted to believe him, so fucking badly that I wanted to grab onto his words and hold them.  He nodded and pulled me back into his arms.  </p><p>“I do, Avery.”  He was breathing in the scent of my still wet hair.  “I think he wants to draw us out, and he nabbed Rose to prove that he knew what we were doing with you.”  Smartest guy in the room, I remembered.  “He’s playing with Clay.  And he knows that any game he plays with Clay is dangerous to HIM. So he won’t push too far.”  </p><p>“I hope you’re right,” I murmured into his chest.  I needed him to be, because Rose had saved me so long ago.  It would be a shitty repayment if she was harmed by an asshole who took her instead of me.</p><p> </p><p>Jake helped me make a choice for lunch and get it started with help from Rose’s careful instructions.  Mom joined us, freshly showered and redressed in a new outfit, as the meal was about to come out of the oven.  </p><p>“I’ll make some iced tea,” but I’d beaten her to it, and she kissed my temple to show her gratitude.  “Thank you, Avery.”  </p><p>Dad, Clay, and the others came in as the timer went off - Jake was grabbing plates and utensils while I was pulling it from the oven with mitts covering my hands.  “Everybody serve yourself,” I offered, setting the pans down on the mats I’d laid down to keep the counter safe from the heat.  “And have a seat.  Let’s hear what you guys figured out.”</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. A Wolf In Sheep's...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cougar and Aisha had returned from their field trip.  Pooch had taken his lunch to the pool house to check in on his wife and son, more than understandable given Rose’s current unknown whereabouts.  As everyone filled a plate, I was trying to hold back the urge to shake the shit out of Clay and possibly Dad to get answers.  </p><p>Finally, with Jake on one side and Mom on the other, I couldn’t take it any longer.  “Well?”  </p><p>Dad shot Clay a look and I could almost see the thought bubbles above their heads.  “Do you want to handle the overly dramatic female or should I?” -- “Rock, paper, scissors?”  </p><p>I was contemplating whether the salt and pepper shakers, being made of cut glass, would be heavy and hard enough to get their attention without knocking their stupid asses out and thus render them useless for information when Clay pushed his plate slightly away and cleared his throat.  </p><p>“The last visual we have of Rose is on a traffic cam near her house from yesterday,” he was maintaining eye contact with me, which was keeping my blood pressure down - for now.  “It looked like she was running regular errands, but -” he took a deep breath and his eyes flicked to Dad and my stomach flipped.  “She was intercepted by someone wearing a GI uniform.”  </p><p>A Guardian Incorporated uniform?  Our uniforms are one of those things that are almost mythical.  Seeing one is like seeing a fucking unicorn, owning one?  Good fucking luck.  No one wears one outside of a fucking job, and outside of that?  No.  </p><p>“That’s -” Mom’s hand reached for mine and I was gratified to feel how cold hers was because it meant I wasn’t the only one who was freaked all the fucking way out.  “How would that happen, Frank?”  </p><p>Dad looked like he planned on finding out in the most painful way possible, and I ALMOST felt bad for the assholes he was going to tear apart.  Almost.  Mostly I wanted to come along and help, because honest to fuck, this was the worst news I’d ever fucking heard.</p><p> </p><p>I suppose I should take a moment, while anyone in our group who still has a fucking appetite finishes their lunch, to explain my dad’s company Guardian Incorporated.  </p><p>Do you ever wonder what happens to those guys whose resume reads like a Jason Bourne movie?  Or those people who have a higher kill count than incels who never leave their mom’s basements and are counting “kills” as fucking trolls or fairies or whatever?  </p><p>Well, Dad was coming to the end of his career in the military and the idea of taking up fishing or something sounded about as fun to him as knitting.  My grandpa, the one who made sure that that shotgun wedding of Mom and Dad’s was THE EVENT of the year, was bemoaning how hard it was for people like him - read disgustingly rich and prone to being taken hostage in foreign lands - to find suitable security.  </p><p>A huge fucking spotlight went off in Dad’s head and BOOM Guardian Incorporated was formed.  The best of the best, from every branch of service, come to Dad when their time is up serving Uncle Sam and he runs them through a gauntlet that makes what the highest standards they’ve been through look like a fucking cakewalk, and if they pass, they get added to the roster.  </p><p>The roster is for the jobs that keep people like Grandpa safe.  It also does other shit that I’m not allowed to talk about because Dad would be irritated and then I’d have to write up a press release and well, honestly it’s not worth the bullshit.  </p><p>GI uniforms aren’t something we throw out at anyone or for anything.  They are SUPER special shit that comes out for very impressive moments.  Like I said, you’d have a better chance of seeing a unicorn fucking a mermaid than catching sight of a GI uniform in the light of day on a regular street.  But if Rose saw someone sporting one?  She’d go with them without question or fight.  That’s how fucking special they are.  </p><p> </p><p>“I want to go,” I knew I sounded exactly like a toddler who wanted to tag along after her daddy and big brother on a trip, but fuck you - I wanted to go with them to beat someone warm and fleshy up.  </p><p>“No,”  Dad didn’t mince words and I wanted to argue, but I knew it was useless.  Fuck.  “Avery, you have to stay here.”  </p><p>“Thought my ass was bait.”  I bit out, and he rolled his eyes.  “What?  Didn’t this asshole actually make contact WITH ME?”  </p><p>“Yeah, and he let you go,” Dad reminded me.  “He decided you weren’t worth the effort, kiddo.”  He clipped me on my chin and then kissed me on the temple.  “Stay here, Avery.”  </p><p>I was about to say something again, but Clay shook his head.  “I’m running point,” it was my turn to roll my eyes.  “Jensen is with me, Pooch is staying here.  Aisha -” He kept talking, but I was angry.  Dad was planning on going through the roster to find out where the fucking mole was, but I was supposed to sit on my hands and play nice. Fucking shit.  </p><p>“Hey,” I looked up to see Jake staring down at me.  “Don’t look so pissed,” I shook my head, but my expression was locked and loaded.  “This is the first run, Avery.”  He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my nose.  “I promise if we figure out who the traitor is, I’ll let you taser his balls.”  I smiled and he kissed me.  When he pulled back he shook his head.  “Tasering someone’s balls gets a smile from you?”  He sighed.  “That should scare me, shouldn’t it?”</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. You've Got Mail...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jake, Aisha, and Cougar were working with Dad and Clay.  Not going inside GI, of course, having Clay - a dead son - show up at the family business would be something of a problematic situation, but Jake could go in with Dad.  Cougar could watch from a perch and Clay and his new lady friend could do whatever the fuck it was that Clay and his new lady friend did at a distance.  </p><p>I wanted to wear the earbud, but Dad overruled my want and wish.  He deemed it unnecessary and I wanted to punch something - him to be precise, but would make do with a practice dummy if I had to.  Mom actually reminded me that I had a job, a real one that I was ignoring, and redirected my attention to it as they left.  </p><p>Pooch, before he went to the pool house, promised to keep me in the loop.  I had to think that he was worried that his own family was being targeted too, and I understood his need to distance himself from my crazy ass - if only to keep on task.  I thanked him and went to my room to work.  </p><p>Opening up my laptop, I saw the proof of Mom’s reminder staring me in the face.  Multiple emails with enough reports to proofread, others to completely rewrite, and then other emails detailing PR releases that I’d have to write from scratch I had enough work to get lost in for hours.  </p><p>There was one email, however, that stood out.  It wasn’t a GI internal email, but it had come into my work account, which made no sense.  No one outside of GI had access to this account, even the PR releases that I wrote would go out from a completely different account.  I looked at the account and tried to decide if I should click it or send it to IT first, but my laptop was so encrypted that it wouldn’t be infected if some asshole attempted something stupid anyway.  Shrugging, I clicked on the email.</p><p>“I told you, you add more than beauty to the workplace, Miss Clay.  Now, I wonder if you ever asked your big brother where he found his latest lover?  Who is Aisha al-Fadhil?  Why is she sticking to a group of burned Special Forces?  Aren’t you curious?  After all, it isn’t as if Clay has the best taste in his love life, is it? - Max”</p><p>I sat back and stared at the email, wondering how he’d managed to not only get into GI, to get access to my email - because the timestamp told me that the email came before Rose’s abduction, and to get a GI uniform or worse a traitor who would wear the uniform to abduct Rose?  Max, whoever he was, had deep pockets and also the ability to weasel into damn near everywhere.  </p><p>“Avery?”  Mom was at my door, and I was still deciding what to do with the email, minimizing the window, I told her to come in.  “You didn’t bring in a drink, are you thirsty?”  She had a glass of iced tea, just in case and I smiled and accepted it.  “I can only imagine how much work you have piled up.”  I bit my lip thinking about Max’s email, but only nodded.  “I’ll leave you to it, but don’t get bogged down, take breaks.”  </p><p>“I won’t,” I promised, wondering how to dig into Aisha’s identity without letting anyone know what I was doing.  </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t as difficult as I thought.  Aisha’s identity was something Dad had dug into pretty early on, because of course Dad did.  He also dug into Jake’s - and the rest of Clay’s team - but seriously DAD?!  I found the files easily enough, because Dad was great at digging, but he had a lot to learn about hiding the digging, at least from me.  </p><p>The file was in his office, which Mom wouldn’t think twice about me going into because I work for him, and it was in the top drawer which was locked, but I’ve been picking those since I could control my hand muscles.  Jake’s, Pooch’s, Cougars, and there she was - Aisha al-Fadhil.  Plain manilla file folder, really Dad?  Simple enough to take with me back to my bedroom.  </p><p>Back in my room, with my laptop open to one of the random reports, I opened the file and read through it.  She was the daughter of a man named Fadhil, a drug lord in Bolivia.  My eyes snapped shut.  Are you fucking kidding me, Clay?  The daughter of the man who put all of this shit in motion, indirectly perhaps, but - I sighed.  And she’d been sleeping under our roof, in our family home.  I read on, her work with the CIA - whether she was actually an officer or not, Dad was having difficulty verifying, but welcome to the world of spooks - nothing in the file made me think that she was safe or that she and Clay were actually a love match.  Fuck.  </p><p>A part of me knew that Max was playing with me, because of course he was, but another part wondered why Dad and Clay didn’t think sharing this shit was pertinent to the rest of us?  As in me and Mom?  Or did Mom know and only I was left out?  Which would be a fucking hilarious joke, let me tell you.  </p><p>I wondered - if Max emailed me, could I respond?  </p><p>Clicking on the email again, I hit the button to respond and contemplated how best to lure him out.  Or to get him to answer me.  Max was playing a game, he was baiting me, and I was bait, so let me think.  </p><p>“Aisha is the drug lord’s bouncing baby girl, right?  Surprise surprise, Clay still has the worst taste in women the world has ever known.  I guess even “death” can’t change that.  I suspect that she’s hanging out with Clay for a mixture of sex (that’s so gross that I’d rather NOT think about it) and revenge on you.  I guess the rest of us can only hope that we’re not collateral damage in the fallout.  - Miss Clay”  </p><p>I didn’t mention Rose.  I thought that I’d let him bring her up, if he answered me.  If I could get him talking, if I could make Max become the world’s weirdest fucking email penpal ever.  I hit send and prayed like I’d never prayed before that it would go through and not be one of the digital return to senders.  And somehow, magically it didn’t come back to me.  </p><p>Which started a new torture: the wait for an answer.  While I waited, I worked on the job Mom reminded me about, constantly checking my inbox for an answer from Max.  The ball was in his court and I hated it.  Hated that he had the power.  That he had the answers.  Because all I wanted was Rose back - and the ability to make him suffer the way I felt he was making us suffer.  Only more painfully.</p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Rats or Vipers...What's REALLY Worse?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dad, Clay, Jake, and the others came back as I was finishing up on half of my workload.  Jake came to find me, and I was just refreshing my inbox as he walked through the doorway.  My eyes were locked on the screen and I saw it, what I’d been waiting all fucking day for, Max’s reply to my fucking response to his first email as Jake’s lips brushed my shoulder. </p><p>“Hey,” I managed to murmur, my finger hovering over the link, wondering if I should open it with Jake so close or if I should wait.  “How was -” I stopped, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.  </p><p>“Avery?”  When I opened my eyes he was kneeling by my chair, looking up at me and I could tell that they had news, but it wasn’t good enough.  Not like mine.  “What is it?”  </p><p>“Help me with my laptop?”  He nodded, looking curious, but sweet and helpful like Jake always was.  “I think we all need to have some share time.”  </p><p> </p><p>Jake and I met my Dad and the others in the library - Dad opened his mouth to say something, but whatever expression was on my face stopped him cold.  Jake had my laptop closed under his arm and I asked him to set it down on the desk.  </p><p>“I know that you guys went into GI locked and loaded to find bear, but we should have looked closer to home first,” all eyes were on me and I sighed as I took a seat behind the desk and clicked open my email.  “I haven’t opened my work email for days, not since I shared the elevator with Max.”  Everyone moved to surround the desk as I spoke.  “Mom talked me out of going to the gym when you left earlier, she reminded me that I actually work for a living -” Dad smirked, but I kept going.  “He contacted me.  On my encrypted work account.”  </p><p>“How?”  Mom again, her eyes searching for Dad’s.  “Frank, how is he getting access?”  Dad sighed, rubbing his face with his hand, a sure sign he was starting to get frustrated with the situation.  </p><p>It was Clay, not Dad who piped up with the answer - shitty and subpar though they were.  “What we managed to piece together was at least one, maybe more, disgruntled employees -” I didn’t miss his eyes flashing to little old me.  “Maybe one who has a more difficult time creating mini mes thanks to -” </p><p>“He deserved it,” I muttered, opening up Max’s email and reading it.  “He’s toying with me.  Baiting me, not mentioning Rose, but he’s trying to stir the pot.”  </p><p>“What pot?”  Clay asked, coming closer and reading over my shoulder like an asshole.  Groaning, I could feel the irritation rolling off of him.  “Seriously?  That’s what he started with?”  </p><p>“What?”  Jake, curiosity would be the death of him, peeked and he sighed.  “Oh, that.”  </p><p>“Yeah, that,” I agreed, but his answer was just as annoying.  “You killed Roque?”  Everyone went silent.  “I mean, Dad said he was a viper, and he’s not here, but I didn’t know he was -”  </p><p>“He turned, Avery.”  Clay’s voice was like gravel and I nodded.  “He turned on all of us, and so -”</p><p>“Got it,” I looked over Max’s answer.  “The question is, how do I answer it?”  </p><p>Dad stared down at me, studying me in a way I wasn’t sure he ever had before.  “What was the first email?”  I turned my laptop around to face him and let him read through both Max’s first message, my answer, then his reply.  Once he read through and nodded to me, I turned it back to face me.  “Well, Avery, I think you’ve managed it pretty well so far, so -” he motioned for me to go ahead.  </p><p>I bit my lip and read Max’s reply again.  </p><p>“Miss Clay - When do I get the privilege of addressing you by your first name?  After all, a rose by any other name - But I digress.</p><p>You’re right to hope that your family stays safe from the collateral damage of Miss al-Fadhil and Clay’s association. They torched a hotel in Bolivia and destroyed a room with gunfire stateside.  Your family home is far too lovely to meet such a tragic end, or so I’m told.  And your pets, well, it would be a tremendous loss for you to lose so much for so little.</p><p>Roque understood that the loss didn’t outweigh the gain, he ended up dead by your brother’s hand.  Another tragedy that didn’t have to happen.  -Max”</p><p> </p><p>Concentrating while the others whispered to one another wasn’t easy, but Jake moved close and asked if I needed anything and I smiled.  “Having you close is nice,” I murmured, so he sat on the desk beside me and I started typing.</p><p>“Max -  I normally don’t give people who threaten me, my family, my pets, or people I love the privilege to call me by my first name, but what the hell, go for it.  </p><p>Clearly you’ve managed to find a rat - or as my Daddy likes to call them, a viper - in our nest, maybe more than one, it would explain how you managed to get this email address and how you snagged our Rose with the one wearing a GI uniform.  You know that our home is beautiful and that I have “pets”, but do you know that every single living being that enters our gates and takes a place in my life gains the love and loyalty that means I and my family will fight for them?  </p><p>You think that loss is measured versus what?  Monetary measurement?  Or some quantitative thing?  Loss is when you can’t possibly think of a replacement for what’s gone, when you lose something and think - that’s gone and it can never come back, never will I have that again.  That’s true loss. </p><p>Roque wasn’t loyal.  He wasn’t.  If he had been, he would have stuck beside his team, my brother and the others until they were all on the other side of it - of you, Max.  Instead, he’s dead.  </p><p>You said a rose by any other name - You have OUR ROSE, and there is no other name for her.  We all know what you look like, and with very little time we’ll know what the rat/vipers look like, and do you honestly think you’ll be safe?  That there is a place on this earth that you, your rat-vipers can hide from us?  Give us Rose back, beg forgiveness, and perhaps Clay and Dad can be talked into allowing all of you to be turned over to the proper authorities, because if you don’t?  If Rose is harmed?  If one smidgen of a hair is out of place, or she has one tiny bruise or a scratch on her person?  Well, I hope God forgives, because Clays don’t.</p><p>-Avery Emerson Clay”  </p><p>Before I pressed send, before I sent it on it’s digit pathway to Max, I showed it to Dad and Clay.  I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t going too far too fast.  When both started grinning I knew I hit the right pitch.  Max wanted to play, but we weren’t in the mood.  Jake told Dad and Clay that while I was sending it, he could do some hacker magic to triangulate the IP address to see if he could find out where it was coming from, possibly reverse Max’s encryption and catch his ass.  </p><p>Waiting sucked, but now that we were all working together, being bait didn’t suck quite as badly.  And as I stared into Jake’s blue eyes, I hit send and I hoped that Max was fuming as he read what I’d written, because I wanted him pissed off.  I wanted him to storm the castle, because then I could definitely punch the fuck out of his ass.</p>
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<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Daddy Cams Are the Devil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dinner was a fend for ourselves situation - Jake grabbed ours and met me outside.  He pulled me toward the cart and told me we were taking ours and heading for the trip.</p><p>“Are you trying to distract me, Jake Jensen?” I asked, squinting suspiciously at him.  His only answer was a smile as he took the wheel and headed toward my playful goats.  </p><p>We managed a picnic on the cart, Nuisance and Roo were frolicing and demanding attention, and Jake was doing his damnedest to keep my mind on the here and now, and NOT on the Max and Rose.  He pulled me from the cart to help with feeding and watering my little trip, getting giggles out of me when the little ones butted him with their safety covered horns.  By the end of our mini break, I was feeling marginally less tense.</p><p>“There,” he was tilting my chin up with his thumb, his finger tracing my smile.  “There’s the smile I’m growing more and more used to,” leaning closer, his lips met mine and I sighed into the feel of him, the warmth and the strength.  When we pulled slightly apart, our gazes locked and I was even more relaxed and definitely open to becoming MORE so when we got back to the house and one of our bedrooms.  </p><p>“Let’s head back,” I murmured and he nodded, clearly of the same mind.  “I think it’s time for bed, don’t you?”  </p><p> </p><p>I drove the cart back, feeling far more calm than I had since first noticing Rose missing from our family, and by some miracle the only obstacles we ran into in our path to the bedroom were four legged and furry.  Once his bedroom door was shut behind us, because Jake insisted we needed a completely different perspective, his mouth met mine and I couldn’t have agreed with him more.  </p><p>Captain Jake Jensen LOOKED like a muscle bound geek who was utterly awkward and had exactly ZERO in the way of game, but get him started and wow.  </p><p>Any residual tension I had left was stripped away as he took off each piece of my clothing - teasing my skin with a butterfly light touch, then his lips would ghost past, next his teeth and tongue - until the only thing I could think or focus on was him and me, the room, and how quickly we could get horizontal or hell, he could press me against the wall, I wanted him NOW.  </p><p> </p><p>My brain is a funny organ, as Jake was bringing me over the edge, on his bed - without any of my furry loved ones witnessing or trying to join in this time - it hit me.  Like a flash of shock, excitement that I’d finally unlocked ANOTHER puzzle piece in Max’s game, and then HORROR - because what my mind had realized as Jake and I were joined, as the muscles of his back rippled in the gleam of the overhead light as he rocked into me and I arched back against him - was this:  the same technology that had allowed Dad to know that Clay was home could be accessed by Max and I had a dark feeling had been.  The hint about how lovely our house was, the tiny nuggets he tossed out like Hansel and Gretel left to mark their path, and I was SO FUCKING SLOW to figure it out.  </p><p>“Jake,” I gasped, he had moved just so and I could hardly catch my breath and a HUGE part of me wanted to push what I’d figured out aside and just have this with him, for a moment longer, but then I thought about ROSE.  His lips were on my shoulder and I tried again, “Jake,” it came out stronger this time, but he misunderstood, moaning my name in answer and I sighed.  “JAKE!”  That did it, he rose up, movement stopped and stared down at me, my face was close enough that even without his glasses he could see me perfectly.  </p><p>“What?”  His eyes were wide and I knew he thought he hurt me, or worse, he looked over his shoulder - Dad or Clay had burst in while he was busy.  </p><p>“I think Max hacked into the security cameras,” he was squinting down at me, trying to mentally catch up with me.  “The Daddy cams that Dad has installed all over the house and compound?”  His eyes went wide and I thought he might be getting there.  “What if he hacked those, or had help getting into them?”</p><p>“Like he did your email?”  He nodded, but he didn’t pull away.  We were still joined and I was a little shocked that he wasn’t growing limp.  “You think that one of the GI guys he has -”  He had his weight on his elbows and I watched as he thought it through.  “I have a program working, it should have Max’s IP address or his VPN even marked by now.”  I looked up at him and waited for him to roll off.  “Or we could finish -”</p><p>I licked my lips and thought about the options available.  While I knew that time was of the essence, it did seem rather wasteful to just STOP right here - arching up into his body, Jake’s eyes fluttered shut and then his mouth met mine and we chose to finish what we started.  After all, Clays aren’t quitters.  </p><p> </p><p>It was full dark when we finished up - a job worth doing was a job worth doing well, people.  And I ALMOST felt bad about possibly stopping my fellow Clays from doing their own best work, but what I’d figured out was IMPORTANT.  And I was still harboring a HUGE fucking chip on my shoulder over Clay’s bullshit big brother moves and Dad’s nonsense too, so I tried VERY hard to hold back on shouting out with GLEE when I called everyone to meet us in the library.  </p><p>It took awhile, clearly my family members were as focused on completing their independent missions as I had been, but eventually we were all gathered together again - though we all looked far less tense so I was willing to bet that - for the Clay portion of the team at least - we’d taken advantage of our emotional support partners.</p><p>“What was so damn important that you felt the urge to scream ‘FIRE’, Avery Emerson?” Dad’s voice sounded a little more gravely than usual and I almost asked him why that was, if I’d woken him from a restful sleep, but I had a new more important topic to discuss.<br/>“I think Max has your Daddy cams hacked.”  I’d planned on easing them into it, but my tact came through as always.  Dad’s face took on the color of Rose’s oatmeal before she added in the good stuff - fruit, cinnamon, and sugar - while Clay crossed his arms over his chest and waited for more information.  “I was in the middle of -” I shot a look at Jake and his face turned a fascinating color combination of reddish purple.  “Discussing a variety of complicated positioning tactics with Jake.”  My big brother’s expression didn’t change so I went on, “and it hit me - the tiny digs that Max tosses into his emails.  Like bread crumbs or puzzle pieces.”  </p><p>“Such as?”  Mom had sat down on the sofa and I took a deep breath while I gathered my thoughts to answer her.  </p><p>“He mentioned how horrible it would be for our ‘beautiful home’ to be part of the collateral damage - which could be a throwaway line, right?”  She nodded.  “Clay?” I glanced at my big brother and his eyes narrowed to show he was waiting for the question.  “Does Max just toss out throwaway lines, or does he play with his prey?”  </p><p>And that was all it took to get the ball rolling.  Jake was told to move his operation - as it were - to the library.  Not only was he searching for the source of Max’s IP or VPN location, but now he had to look into whether or not our security system had a hack or leak.  Both should be easy, but what Jake was finding, with the first search at least, was that whomever Max had Pied Pipered away from GI wasn’t a novice in tech or in hiding their tracks.  </p><p>“This guy is no slouch,” he was studying the screen of his laptop with a look that combined concentration with a healthy dose of respect.  “Too bad for him that he’s still not on my level.”  I shook my head, but the tug that came low in my belly shocked me a little.  I wasn’t expecting to be turned on by the geek side of him.  </p><p>While Jake worked on his part of finding Max, Dad asked me to grab my laptop to see if I was graced with a response to my last email to the raging asshole.  Opening it up, I found a shit ton more work related ones, but nothing from the email associated with him.  Shaking my head, I left it up and sitting beside Jake’s.  Since it looked like we were in for a long night, I pulled up a chair and started opening up work files - might as well be productive, right?</p><p>“Keeping me company?” Jake asked, his fingers moving faster than mine across his keyboard.  </p><p>My smile was lit by my screen.  “The bed is too big without you.”</p>
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